


Golden Eyed Guardian

by Noctem31



Series: Deep Waters [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Big Brother Mycroft, Brotherly Bonding, Dangerous Eurus, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, F/M, Fluff, Kidnapping, Lies, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Mollcroft, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft IS the British Government, Mycroft To The Rescue, Possessive Mycroft, Post Sherlock Return, Protective Mycroft, Romance, Sacrifice, Savior Mycroft, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Trust Issues, Upset Sherlock, ice man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-02-15 02:17:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13021152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noctem31/pseuds/Noctem31
Summary: Shy Molly Hopper, Sherlock's pathologist, has gone unnoticed for years by those around her. That is until Mycroft Holmes find himself in need of her expertise. Someone is attempting to threaten him and his position by murdering his agents, and stealing classified government information. Will Molly Hooper be able to help Mycroft find the one responsible? And what will happen when an even bigger threat is revealed?





	1. A Job Offer

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT own anything involving the Sherlock Holmes series. 
> 
> There may be some timeline differences within this story, and possibly some spelling errors since I rarely have time to edit. I appreciate feedback on my stories as long as it is respectful. Thank you for reading!

Molly sighed deeply as she stepped out of her office and walked slowly towards the Bart’s exit. However, before she could reach the doors Sherlock strode in with his belstaff flowing around him, and John in tow.

“Ah Molly,” he said with a charming smile, “Just the person I was looking for. I need you to…”

Molly held up her hand to stop him mid sentence. “No Sherlock. I have been working nonstop helping you for the past week. I’m going home.”

“But,” he began with a frown.

“No buts. There are other doctors here besides me who can help you.”

With that, she turned away from them and continued outside into the cool night air, leaving a gaping Sherlock behind. She took a deep breath, savoring the feel of the air in her lungs before continuing towards the main road to hail a cab.

Sherlock had returned to the land of the living several months ago, and automatically went back to being his demanding old self. He spent all of his time searching for cases, and then pestered her to examine bodies, and provide him with body parts for his experiments when cases came along. She had thought maybe after his return he would pay more attention to her, but there was no such luck on her end. Sherlock was just as oblivious as ever when it came to her affections. Or maybe he did notice, and just chose to ignore it instead. He was the master of deduction after all, but no matter what he did or didn’t know, he still only saw her as a friend and nothing more.

Molly had done her best over the years to forget him and move on, but no matter who she dated, she couldn’t delete his face from her mind. She had even dated Tom and agreed to marry him when he proposed. But she couldn’t justify marrying a man when she so thoroughly loved another. She would only allow herself to marry when the man took her breath away the way Sherlock always did when she saw him.

Molly was broken out of her internal musings when a sleek black car pulled up in front of her. She quickly took a step back, but stopped when the back window rolled down.

Mycroft Holmes, the man who Sherlock claimed WAS the entire British Government, was there to greet her. She couldn’t help but gasp a little and take another step back seeing the cold look on his face. She had only met him a few times, but he had always sent a shiver down her spine. He always managed to dominate whatever room he was in, standing tall, and still as a statue with perfect posture. His clothing probably cost more than her month’s salary, and that never failed to make her feel inadequate.  

He was completely untouchable, more so than Sherlock, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he wanted with her.

Molly wrung her hands in front of her and gave him a shy smile. “Mr. Holmes, w-what can I do for you?”

He looked her up and down with a slight frown on his face, and she couldn’t help but feel like she was being deduced by him the same way Sherlock always did when he stepped into the lab.

“Dr. Hooper, get in,” he said sharply.

She was taken back by his tone, but obeyed him and walked around the car to where the driver was holding the door open for her. She lowered herself into the comfortable leather seat and asked,

“What can I do for you Mr. Holmes?”

He stared at her for a long while with an unreadable look in his eyes before he said, “I have a job offer for you Miss Hooper.”

“A job offer?” she asked. “I already work at Bart’s?”

“Obviously. But I have found myself in need of a pathologist, and I need someone trustworthy.”

She frowned in confusion, but listened as he continued.

“Sherlock trusts you, and his trust is not easily earned. It is also an added bonus that you are the best pathologist in London currently.”

Molly smiled at his compliment. “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment Miss Hooper, I was simply stating facts.”

The smile was promptly wiped from her face, and her cheeks turned red from embarrassment. “So… um.. what kind of job?”

“What I am about to tell you is a strictly kept secret. You speak of what I am about to tell you outside of my presence, you will be immediately eliminated, am I clear?”

He sent her an icy glare, causing her to cower away from him. “I-I understand. I won’t say anything I swear.”

Molly thought she saw a regretful look in his eye for a moment, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He looked away from her then, and looked out the window to his right.

“MI6 and CIA agents are being targeted. Someone within our ranks is stealing intel, and using it to find and murder them. Their causes of death are… unknown as of now,” he said. “Our current pathologist was unable to find anything on the last victim, so we wish for you to perform the autopsies on the newest victims and look for anything suspicious. We would arrange for you to have some time off from Bart’s, and you would be paid... generously for your work.”

“Why don’t you bring in Sherlock? I’m sure he would find the killer,” she asked cautiously.

Mycroft huffed out a breath and explained, “My brother doesn’t adhere to the rules, and in a situation such as this one, rules must be followed. If he were to accidentally expose this investigation, both departments would be investigated by outside forces and the traitor would escape. I cannot afford to bring him into this.” He looked away from the window, and his cold eyes met her own. “Will you do it Dr. Hooper?”

The intensity of his gaze made her shiver a little, and despite the part of her saying she should walk away, she found herself nodding. Mycroft was Sherlock’s brother, and while he may be much colder than the younger Holmes, a small part of her knew she could trust him.

He nodded once in reply. “Excellent. Arthur, my driver will pick you up tomorrow morning at 7:30 to begin work. Good evening Dr. Hooper.”

Molly gasped a little when she realized the car was now parked outside of her flat. She murmured a quick goodnight as Arthur opened the car door for her. She stood there silently as she watched the sleek black car drive away, mind reeling with unanswered questions.

 

* * *

 

“Good morning Dr. Hooper,” said Mycroft in a clip as she stepped into the morgue.

He couldn’t help but frown a little at her appearance. Molly Hooper wasn’t unattractive, but her clothing didn’t do her any favors. Her khaki pants, and rainbow striped jumper were much too large, and made her look rather childlike. She was a distinguished doctor in her field, and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why she didn’t attempt to portray her position in society.

Mycroft knew from her file she had an extremely high IQ, and attended a prestigious university. She had published several groundbreaking papers, and had helped solve many of Sherlock’s difficult cases. He would have expected someone with her credentials to be confident, but whenever he saw her he was reminded of a tiny little mouse.

Molly looked around the morgue cautiously as she walked towards him. “Hello Mr. Holmes,” she said with a shy smile.

He gave her a curt nod, and gestured to the three bodies resting on the tables behind him. “Miss Hooper. These three men behind me, whose names will stay undisclosed were each found dead within their homes within the past two weeks. Our previous pathologist was unable to name the cause of death, so we are hoping you will be able to provide us with answers.” He then gestured to the younger man behind him, “This is Eric. He will be your assistant during your time here. If you find yourself in need of anything, you may ask him.”

Molly nodded and wrung her hands in front of her. “Th-thank you Mr. Holmes.”

He sighed and took one last look around the lab. “I must leave now. If you find anything, Eric will know how to contact me.”

Without waiting for a response he walked past her and out of the lab. There was work to be done while he waited.

Two hours later, he was seated at his desk reading over reports from Iran and Syria. The two most likely candidates for his recent troubles. Normally he wouldn’t have taken the time to involve himself in an internal investigation such as this one, but it was quite obvious someone was trying to send him a message. Someone wanted him to know they could reach him, and breach his security.

He leaned back into his chair, and took a deep breath. He was being toyed with, and he hated being toyed with. Whoever this was… they were going to pay dearly for their transgressions.

Mycroft looked towards his office door when he heard someone knock. “Come in,” he murmured. Athena, his personal assistant walked through the door a moment later.

“Mr. Holmes, Lady Smallwood is here to see you.”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise, “Is that so? Send her in.”

Athena nodded and left the room. She returned a moment later with Lady Smallwood, and closed the door behind her to give them privacy.

Mycroft gestured to the chair in front of his desk, “Please sit.”  

She did, studying him curiously for a moment.

“What can I do for you Lady Smallwood,” he asked in a blank voice.

“I see you have brought in outside help for the case,” she noted. “Who is she?”

He narrowed his eyes and tipped his head to the side. “I don’t believe that is any of your business. We may work together occasionally, but you hold no influence over me, or my departments.”

He didn’t trust her. She was a strong willed and powerful women, but she had allowed herself to become involved in too many unsavory situations. Situations, that if disclosed to the public would destroy her image forever. If someone were to learn of her past, they could easily blackmail her into working against the British government.

The fact that she even dared to ask about his current dealings was troubling. She knew, before even stepping into his office that he would refuse to answer her questions. He would have to keep a closer eye on her in the future.

Before she could even respond to his comment, he continued, “Was there anything else you needed Lady Smallwood? I am quite busy at the moment.”

She narrowed her eyes in response, and replied in an icy tone. “No Mr. Holmes, that was all. Thank you for your time.”

“Good day Lady Smallwood.”

He watched as she left his office, and frowned once the door was closed. He would have to be more careful about hiding information on his investigation in the future. The last thing he needed, was for the person responsible for the killings to know what direction the investigation was heading.

Eventually if things escalated, he would have to consider bringing in Sherlock, even if he did detest having to ask for his brother’s help. The younger Mr. Holmes would never allow him to live it down if he did.

Mycroft was interrupted from his internal musings when the phone on his desk began to ring. He noticed the called I.D. from the morgue downstairs, and picked it up,

“Holmes speaking.”

Eric’s voice came through the other end, “Mr. Holmes, Dr. Hooper has found something that she thinks you should see.”

“I will be down soon.”

20 minutes later, Mycroft was standing in front of one of the bodies of his agents, with Molly standing by his side. She handed him a magnifying glass, and gestured to the man’s hairline on the back of his neck.

“If you look closely Mr. Holmes, I have found what I believe to be a needle mark on the back of his neck. The puncture wound leads directly into the spinal cord, and I believe the killer may have injected a fast acting, and undetectable nerve agent which stopped the autonomic nervous system and killed them instantly.” She shrugged self consciously and added, “I have yet to perform autopsies on the other bodies, but they both have the same puncture mark. I am surprised the previous pathologist didn’t notice. They were hard to miss.”

He found himself admiring her intellect for a moment before nodding. “Thank you Dr. Hooper. Was there anything else you found?”

“Actually, yes,” she said with a frown. “I’m not sure what this means, but someone carved the number three into their palms.”

She lifted the man’s hand to show him. He looked at it closely and sighed. “Yes, the previous pathologist noticed that as well on the previous victim.”

“What do you think it means?” she asked slowly.

He stood up straight, noticing how great their difference was in height. “I’m afraid that is classified. Thank you for your work Dr. Hooper, please contact me if you find anything else.”

She nodded before turning back to the body and observing it curiously. He could tell the wheels in her mind were turning, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking. He shook his head, and turned to leave the lab. As he walked, his frustration began to grow. He was no closer to finding the person who did this, and time was running short. The number obviously meant something, but what it was, he did not know.


	2. My Apologies

Molly looked up from the fourth body to have been brought into the morgue within two weeks as Mycroft stepped into the lab.

She was slightly surprised to see how worn down he looked, compared to his usual powerful appearance. His face was still cold, and hard as stone, and his three piece black suit was perfectly pressed. But she could see the darkness under his eyes, and the way his eyes scanned the room, as if he were searching for answers. Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed the man’s fatigue, but she had always been more observant than those around her, with the exception for maybe Sherlock, and Mycroft himself.

Molly watched him glide gracefully across the room with umbrella in hand to stand beside her. He looked down at her, and it was just then that she noticed bright golden color of his eyes. She had never seen anything like it, and she found herself completely captivated for a few short seconds.

He just stared back for a moment, and she could sense he was deducing her. Probably seeing what she ate for breakfast by the type of blouse she was wearing, or noticing she hadn’t gotten much sleep the previous night because of loud neighbors.

“Dr. Hooper,” he said finally as he turned towards the body. “Have you made any other discoveries?”

She sighed and shook her head. “No I haven’t. Everything is exactly the same as the previous victims. Same puncture mark, same number carved into their palm…”

“Perhaps you haven’t been looking hard enough,” he snapped. “You must have missed something.”

Molly felt abruptly irritated then. She could handle a lot of abuse from those around her, but when someone questioned her ability to do her job properly… that was too much for her to sit back and take. She had worked long and hard to get where she was today, and she wasn’t about to allow someone to undermine that.  

She looked up at him and glared harshly, a foreign expression on her face. “Mycroft Holmes. You asked for my help, and I agreed without question, but if you are going to stand there and insult my intelligence and my capabilities, I am going to leave.”

He raised an eyebrow and regarded her curiously, as if he were truly seeing her for the first time. His gaze was intense, and she instantly regretted speaking to him that way. She wrung her hands in front of her and looked down at her feet.

“I-I’m sorry…” she began, but Mycroft placed his index finger under her chin to make her look at him. She was surprised by the contact, but it was over as quickly as it began so she didn’t have much time to question it.

He shook his head, “No, you do not need to apologize Dr. Hopper. It was wrong of me to have questioned you. Please forgive me.”

Molly looked into his golden colored eyes and nodded. He sighed, and glanced back at the body before returning her eyes to her.

“Perhaps you would allow me to buy you lunch this afternoon as a token of my gratitude for the work you have done thus far… and as a further apology.”

“Oh there is no need to apologize again,” she began to say.

“Nonsense,” he cut in. “I insist.”

“Oh… O-okay, thank you,” she said.

His lips quirked up slightly in response.

 

* * *

 

Mycroft pulled out Molly’s chair at the table which had been set up in his office for their lunch. He smirked seeing the blush on her face as she sat down and thanked him. He sat across from her as he unbuttoned his suit jacket, and placed his napkin on his lap. Molly copied his actions, and he said, “I apologize for being unable to leave the building for our lunch. I have very little time to spare for such luxuries nowadays.”  

“I-I understand. This is perfect, thank you.”

He watched her for a moment, noticing the way her hands figited in her lap, and the way she looked around his office. She was nervous. No... correction, she was afraid of him, and yet she trusted him enough to work with with him. How interesting.

“Dr. Hooper,” he said as gently as he was able. “You have no reason to be afraid of me.”

She sucked in a breath and shook her head, “I’m not...”

Mycroft held up his hand to stop her. “Yes you are. I can see it whenever I look at you. As I said, you have no need to fear me.”

“I’m sorry… It’s just that you are, well YOU, and I’m just Molly Hooper. You are the most powerful man in England, and I am only a pathologist. It is very difficult not to be afraid of you.”

“I suppose I will just have to prove to you I am trustworthy then.”

Over the next 15 minutes he engaged her in easy conversation, and as time went on she became more relaxed in his presence. By the time the food had arrived, she was marginally more calm. No longer fidgeting anxiously or glancing around the room. Her attention was focused on him, and oddly enough, he found himself enjoying her company.

Mycroft Holmes was not a sentimental man. He did not actively chase friendships, or other relationships. He preferred the silence of his home to the busy atmosphere of London, and preferred to read a good book, instead of spending time in the presence of other people.

Unlike his younger brother, Mycroft was much more calm and stable. He did not need to do drugs, or hunt down killers to stave off his boredom. Being the British government had proved to be a much more interesting pastime over the years. Being the man in charge of it all allowed him the freedom to do as he pleased, and he had never understood the need for friends or family.

But looking across the table at Molly Hooper, listening to her laugh as she retold the tale of the time her chemistry professor nearly blew up a classroom in Uni, he found himself wondering what it would be like to have a friend. To have someone who was loyal to him out of choice, not obligation. Someone to vent his daily frustrations to when stress threatened to overwhelm him. What would that be like he wondered?

He internally scoffed at himself then for even considering such nonsense. He was better off alone, just as he had always been.

Caring was not an advantage.

“Mr. Holmes,” she began suddenly. “Please forgive me, I know you said you didn’t want to bring in Sherlock to help solve the crime… but it doesn’t seem like the killer plans to stop killing any time soon. Wouldn’t it be wise to involve Sherlock?”

He sighed deeply and leaned back into his chair, feeling more tired in that moment than he had in a very long time. “I believe you are probably right Dr. Hooper. As much as I hate to admit it, this is my dear brother's area of expertise.”

 

* * *

 

Several days after her lunch with Mycroft, Molly was working back in her normal lab at Bart’s. She had enjoyed working in the state of the art lab Mycroft had assigned to her, but she preferred the atmosphere of Bart’s. It was more familiar which made it much more comfortable, and easy for her to work.

She was in the process of filling out paperwork when Sherlock strolled into the room. “Molly Hooper,” he said rather loudly, causing her to drop her pen.

“Sherlock, please, you scared me.”

“Apologies,” he replied as he walked towards her. “Molly I need you to get me…”

He trailed off as he got closer to her, and began to stare at her oddly. He took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes.

“Molly Hooper, why do I smell my brother’s cologne on you?”

Her jaw dropped and she began to stutter, “I-I, um, I…”

Thankfully, Mycroft entered the lab only seconds later.

“Oh lay off, won't you Sherlock? She had been working for me the past several weeks.”

Sherlock turned to glare at his older brother. The two men stared at one another for a long time, seemingly having a silent conversation.

After several minutes, the angered expression on Sherlock’s face began to fade. “You have a case for me?” he said out loud.

“Yes,” replied Mycroft. “But this is not the place for such conversations. I came here to ask both you and Molly to accompany me to a secure location.”

Sherlock momentarily narrowed his eyes again, before nodding and leaving the room in a dramatic fashion.

Mycroft watched him go, “He always was the theatrical one,” he said with a sigh. Mycroft then reached for her coat which had been hanging on the rack near the door. “Shall we?”

She nodded, and he helped her put on her coat when she approached him, causing her to blush fiercely. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You are welcome. Now, let’s go before my brother becomes bored and decides to blow up my car for entertainment purposes.”

Molly laughed, and walked side by side with Mycroft out to the waiting Jaguar.

It was another 20 minutes later when they reached their destination. It was obvious as they entered the abandoned warehouse that Mycroft was already regretting bringing Sherlock into this. The younger Holmes brother had done nothing but taunt him the entire car ride. She was coming to realize their entire relationship was built on competition. Trying to outdo one another, and prove that they were the smartest Holmes child.

Eventually Mycroft snapped. “Oh just shut up already Sherlock. Do you want to hear about the case or not? I know you have resorted to shooting holes in the walls of Baker Street out of boredom.”

That seemed to reign Sherlock in slightly, and Molly could practically see him twitching. Desperately wanting to get his hands on a case to occupy his mind. “Fine,” he breathed. “Tell me about the case.”

Mycroft smirked and pulled a file out of his brief case. He handed it to Sherlock and began to explain.

“Several weeks ago CIA and MI6 agent began to turn up dead in their homes. According to Dr. Hooper, they were each killed by a single injection of a fast acting nerve agent to the base of the spinal cord. I have searched every database, every known employee… nothing,” he admitted. “I have concluded it must be someone within the government. Someone with sufficient security clearance to access private information about our agents, or at least someone with the means to gain such clearance.”

Sherlock looked through the pictures of the bodies in the file. “This is personal somehow,” he noted. “Someone is sending you a message, but what is the message…”

“Someone wishes to prove themselves to me, I believe. They want me to know they are capable of inflicting damage on my departments. I believe if they had wanted to, they could have done much worse than kill four of my agents by now. They are… toying with me.”

Mycroft seemed to despise the fact that he was being toyed with. Molly watched the way his cold mask cracked ever so slightly, to show the burning anger underneath at his current situation. She almost felt bad for the person they were searching for, because she had a feeling that if Mycroft managed to get his hands on them, they would never again see the light of day. That thought sent a shiver up her spine, which Mycroft seemed to notice. His face softened a little for her, causing Sherlock to scoff.

“Really Mycroft? What happened to your life’s code?”

Mycroft carefully smoothed out his suit jacket. “I assure you brother mine, that code is still fully intact. You needn't worry yourself.”  

“I wasn’t worried,” replied Sherlock with a smirk, “Merely amused is all.”

Molly frowned as she listened to their cryptic words. She didn’t understand what they were referring to, but before she could ask any questions, sherlock had placed all of the photographs back into the file and handed it to Mycroft.

“Don’t worry my dear brother, I will find your killer.”

“Just do me a favor Sherlock, and be discrete? You do know how I hate having to clean up your messes.”

 


	3. Lions and Sheep

“Has Sherlock found anything else?” asked Molly as she sat down with Mycroft for lunch, which had become sort of a routine over the past few weeks.

He moved to sit across from her and unbuttoned his suit jacket, a sight she had found herself enjoying on recent encounters.

She cleared her throat a little to force such thoughts from her mind. He was a Holmes which meant he was automatically out of her league, so allowing her attraction to him to grow wasn’t a wise course of action.

“No he hasn’t,” Mycroft answered. “I believe this is the first case that has ever taken him more than three weeks to solve. He seems to be both frustrated and elated by that fact.”

Sherlock had been working nonstop since Mycroft had first given him the case three weeks earlier. Since then, three more bodies had turned up, and everyone was becoming desperate for answers.

Mycroft sighed deeply and suggested, “Let’s not talk about the case just now. I need a distraction. Talk to me about something else.”

Molly smiled a little, and marveled at how much more comfortable she had become in his presence in the past few weeks. She was starting to believe he genuinely enjoyed her company. Ever since that first lunch, he had asked her to join him every Tuesday and Thursday in his office. They spent that time talking about scientific theories, and philosophy, sometimes laughing at the idiocracy of certain people.

Molly found Mycroft to be much easier to talk to than Sherlock. Unlike Sherlock, Mycroft seemed to truly care about what she had to say, and he always gave her his complete attention while she was speaking. Sherlock on the other hand quickly became bored with any conversation, and wasn’t afraid to make that fact known in a rather rude fashion.

“What would you like to talk about?” she asked.

He tipped his head to the side. “What was your childhood like?”

“Oh,” she said, feeling a little nervous all of the sudden. She drank deeply from the glass of white wine in front of her, and Mycroft narrowed his eyes. “I was… alone most of my childhood. My parents both worked often, so the only company I had were the characters in the books I read. When I started school, I didn’t have many friends because I was always much smarter, and more mature than the other children. I basically spent all of my time in libraries, learning everything I could about any subject that interested me. I was always called a nerd, and bullied because of it…”

Molly looked across the table to see Mycroft studying her intently. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “That was personal, a-and you probably didn’t want to know any of that.”

Mycroft leaned forward in his chair. “Molly,” he murmured. “It's alright. I asked you, and you told me.”

“That probably explains a lot about me, doesn’t it?” she asked with an uncomfortable laugh.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged and looked towards the left side of his room where his desk was situated. “Well… I’m awkward, and alone. I work in a morgue for christs sake.”

Mycroft surprised her by reaching across the table to grab her hand. The feel of his large warm hand around her’s surprised her. He always seemed so cold, that she had almost assumed his hands would be cold as well.

Despite being surprised, the contact served to calm her.

“Molly,” he said as he rubbed his thumb over hers. “I was also that child growing up, Sherlock was as well. Both of us were too smart for our own good, and rejected by our peers. Not that it really mattered to us at the time, we knew we were better than them. We were the lions, and they were the sheep. Those children… the ones who bullied you, they were sheep. Sheep do not know how to think for themselves, and they tend to follow the lead of others.”

Mycroft tightened his hold on her hand, and stared at her with his golden eyes. “The sheep flock together, because it is the only way they can survive when confronted by a lion. You my dear Molly… you are a lion. It is why they they bullied you. They were frightened and intimidated by you, as they should have been. You are worth so much more than than any of them, so don’t allow yourself to be brought down by sheep.”

Molly’s breath was abruptly stolen from her, and her eyes burned a little. That was the first time anyone had ever said anything like that to her.

“Thank you Mycroft,” she choked out.

His eyes warmed a little, and he gave her a small smile. “You are welcome Molly.”

It wasn’t until later that she realized they had called each other by their first names throughout the entire lunch.

 

* * *

 

Two days later Molly was finally arriving home after a long couple of days working. She sighed deeply as she walked towards her front door, and fumbled for her keys. She was looking forward to taking a nice long shower, and reading her book, but all thoughts of a relaxing evening were wiped from her mind when she saw the number three spray painted in red on the front door to her flat.

She dropped her keys on the ground as panic raced through her. The number three.. The same number carved into the palms of the victims she had performed autopsies on for Mycroft.

Mycroft. She needed to call him.

Molly reached into her purse with trembling hands, and pulled out her phone. She searched her contacts for Mycroft and quickly pressed call. The phone rang twice before he answered.

“Molly?” he said. “What’s wrong?”

“T-there is a number three painted onto my door. W-what do I do?”

There was a pause, and she thought she could hear him speaking to someone in the background. After a minute he responded. “Stay there,” he said firmly. “Do not go inside, I promise I will be there in a few minutes. Just stay calm Molly.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay, okay I will.”

“See you soon,” he said before hanging up.

True to his word, four cars pulled up to her flat minutes later, and out poured multiple men in black, each of them carrying guns.

Mycroft was the last to exit the car, and as he started towards her, the men in black moved towards her flat.

“Are you alright Molly?” he asked as he stepped up beside her. She nodded yes, but tears began to flow down her cheeks. He sighed deeply, and surprised her by wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and pulling her to him. “It’s alright,” he whispered, and she buried her face into his firm chest. The feel of his warmth, and the smell of his cologne helped calm her down, and after a long while her sniffling subsided, and the tears stopped.

“Mr. Holmes,” she heard a deep voice say. “You should see this.”

Mycroft rubbed his hand on her arm gently and said, “Molly, I have to go and see what they found. Just wait here, I will be back.”

She nodded, and stepped back from him as he released her. The warmth she had seen in his eyes was gone as he looked towards the man in the black suit. The iceman had made his reappearance, and she watched as he glided towards the front door of her flat.

He disappeared inside, and was gone for nearly 15 minutes before he walked back outside. He placed a hand on the small of her back as he approached her, and began leading her towards one of the black cars.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Mycroft didn’t respond. Instead, he opened the car door for her, and closed it behind her once she had sunk into the comfortable leather seat. He then walked around the car, and sat beside her in the back seat.

“Molly,” he began cautiously. “We found the body of one of our agents in your flat. Well, part of a body at least.”

She clasped a hand over her mouth, and tears began to fill her eyes as she took in that statement. “W-what do you mean? Part of a body? What is going on Mycroft, why me?”

He reached over and wiped one of the tears from her cheek. “It will be alright Molly. Sherlock and I will figure this out.”

“Mycroft, what did you mean by part of a body?” she asked again.

His face looked grim as he said, “There was half of a body to be exact. Someone decided to cut the body of my agent down the middle, and left the upper half in your living room.”

She gasped audibly, and felt instantly sick to her stomach. “Mycroft,” she whispered.

He took her hand in his and assured her, “It will be alright Molly, I’m going to call Sherlock now.”

Mycroft’s phone began to ring then, and he murmured, “Speak of the devil,” as he glanced at the screen. He answered it and said, “Brother dear, I was just about to call you.”

He was silent for a long moment as he listened to Sherlock speak, then he sighed deeply, “We have already found the other half of the body Sherlock, in Molly’s flat actually. I have ordered my people to touch nothing until you arrive to investigate the crime scene… Yes. Excellent. Goodbye.”

Mycroft slipped his phone into the pocket of his jacket, and tipped his head back against the leather seat. This was the first time she had ever seen him look so defeated, so she squeezed his hand in reassurance. “You said it yourself Mycroft, you will figure all of this out. Now what did Sherlock say?”

“The other half of the body was in Sherlock’s flat when he arrived just a little while ago,” he said.

Molly swallowed hard. “Why me? Why Sherlock?”  

“It seems to me, whoever this is, is trying to threaten people I care about.”

He turned his head to look at her, and she frowned a little. “You care about me?”

“It would seem so,” he said in a dull tone. “I believe I have come to consider you as a friend in recent weeks Molly Hooper.”

She squeezed his hand again and gave him a little smile. Despite the fact that there was currently a dead body in her flat, and someone was apparently threatening her, she was glad he considered her to be a friend.

“I consider you my friend, too, Mycroft.”

He leaned back into his seat, and closed his eyes with a small smile. “Sherlock will be here soon,” was all he said in response.


	4. Whirlwind of Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now we get to look at the story from Mycroft's perspective! There seems to be a lot more going on within his head than he lets on in front of Molly... hmmm...

 

“What did you find Sherlock?” Asked Mycroft as he paced back and forth in the temporary flat he had secured for Molly.

Every few seconds or so he found himself glancing in her direction, taking in her small, pale form. She was visibly shaken by the events of tonight, and if Mycroft were being honest with himself, he was shaken too.

He had been in the middle of an important meeting with Lady Smallwood, and several other government employees when he received her call. He had immediately excused himself from the meeting to answer it, and the second he heard her trembling voice, he felt a wave of panic come over him. Mycroft Holmes did not panic. He was steady and calm in all situations, but for some reason little Molly Hooper had taken his calm demeanor and ripped it to shreds.

He didn’t understand his reactions to her. He had, on multiple occasions, found himself admiring her on more than just an intellectual level. He was often captivated by her bright hazel eyes, and he ached to reach out and thread his fingers into her soft brown hair, and Mycroft had never been one to pay attention to the physical attributes of other human beings. Physical need was beneath him, and nothing more than a distraction in life. That was one of the few things both Mycroft and Sherlock were able to agree on, but here he was, attracted to Molly Hooper.

Then there was the incident several hours earlier when Molly had begun to cry while standing in front of her flat. The sight of her crying was enough to make his chest ache, and he had taken her into his arms without thinking. He had comforted her, and even now as he paced back and forth, he was bewildered by that fact.

Molly Hooper was the first, and only woman to dig her way into Mycroft’s consciousness. He wanted her, physically, emotionally, and intellectually, and he had no idea how he was going to handle the situation. Half of him was screaming to run and never see her again, while the other half was insisting he pull her into his arms and kiss her.

He was at war with himself, and he was at a loss for answers.

Sherlock seemed to know what he was thinking because he rolled his eyes dramatically, but was surprisingly decent enough not to comment on it in front of Molly.

“The body was obviously meant to threaten Molly and myself,” Sherlock began. “It was a warning. It is likely he will attack one, or both of us in the future. However, beyond that it seems as if the body being torn in half was a symbol on its own. I believe the killer feels as if he himself were torn apart, or is being torn apart. So Mycroft... who have you hurt so deeply that they were willing to go to such lengths to seek revenge against you.”

Mycroft sunk into a chair and places his face in his hands. “I do not know Sherlock. I _am_ the British government, and many people get caught in the crosshairs of international politics. It could be anyone.”

Sherlock slammed his fist on the table and hissed, “You need to think Mycroft! You always said you were the smarter one out of the two of us, so think. This is someone you have met before. Someone you rejected, and destroyed emotionally. Have there really been so many people who fit that description that you cannot remember?”

Mycroft leaned back in his chair, but did not answer. Sherlock scoffed and stood, “Molly is in danger Mycroft, and we both know how it would affect you if something were to happen to her. Think harder. You know where to find me when you remember something.”  

With that, Sherlock stormed from the flat, and went in the direction of his own temporary flat.

Sherlock’s comment was like a punch in the gut. Mycroft was the smart one. He should have solved this case by now. He shouldn't have needed to involve Sherlock in the first place.  Mycroft sighed deeply and looked down at the floor. “You should know I am not a good man Molly,” he whispered.

He continued to stare at the floor, even when she moved to stand in front of him.

“Mycroft please look at me,” she said. He obeyed her request, and raised his eyes to meet hers. She surprised him by cupping his jaw in her left hand and giving him a small smile. He couldn’t help but lean into her soft touch just a little and close his eyes. “I firmly believe you do whatever is necessary to protect our country Mycroft. I don't believe you are a bad person. I trust you, and I consider you to be my friend. Please don’t blame yourself for all of this.”

He opened his eyes again, and pulled her hand from his face before lightly kissing her palm. He heard her breath hitch, and in that moment he knew his attraction wasn’t one sided.

But he also knew he wouldn’t be a good match for Molly. He worked constantly, there were often threats on his life, and he wouldn’t be able to give her what she needed from him if they were to enter a relationship. She would be better off with someone else, and he was better off alone.

Mycroft released her hand and stood from his chair, towering over her as she stood in front of him. “Thank you Molly,” he said truthfully. She gave him a smile, and he leaned down to press his lips gently to her forehead. He heard her breath hitch once again, but instead of bending further and kissing her properly like he desperately wanted to, he took a step back from her. He could read the disappointment on her face, but forced himself to ignore it. It was for the best, he told himself.

“You have my number,” he told her. “Call me if you notice anything out of the ordinary. You should be safe here, there are three agents outside who will protect you.”

She gave him another small smile and nodded. “Thank you Mycroft.”

He nodded once, and left the flat, cursing himself the entire time for being a coward.

 

* * *

 

“What are you doing Mycroft?”

Mycroft narrowed his eyes at Sherlock who was sitting across from him. “I have no idea what you are speaking of brother mine.”

Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Oh please. Anyone with eyes can see the way you look at Molly when you think she isn't looking. You fancy her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Sherlock. You know I don’t venture into the realm of romance.”

Sherlock stared at him for a long while, and for the first time in his life, Mycroft felt as if Sherlock were seeing right through him.

“Your cheeks are flushed Mycroft, you are lying to me. You are attracted to her, and you are embarrassed by the way your mind and body are betraying you. How interesting is it that the great Mycroft Holmes, owner of the British government has fallen for an awkward, mediocre pathologist...”

“Do not speak of her that way,” Mycroft hissed suddenly, tightening his grip on his umbrella.

Sherlock gave him a positively feral grin, and he realized he had fallen for his brother’s trap. “Well well brother. You must be completely besotted in order to defend Molly Hooper’s honor in such a way.”

Mycroft mentally berated himself for making such a ridiculous mistake. Never before had he let another person so thoroughly distract him before. This meeting with Sherlock had turned out to be a perfect example of why a relationship would be completely unacceptable.

“Mycroft.”

The older Holmes brother looked up, and met the penetrating gaze of Sherlock. He noted a change in his brother’s expression, and a shift in the atmosphere of the room.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock repeated. “Molly Hooper is a genuinely good person. She is someone I trust with my life, and I could think of no better match for you if you would decide to pursue her.”

Mycroft’s jaw dropped, and he shook his head. “You know I couldn’t Sherlock. There are so many reasons why I cannot do such a thing.”

“And why not?” Sherlock asked as he tipped his head to the side.

“Relationships are nothing but distractions, and caring is not an advantage,” Mycroft replied. It was something he had said often throughout his life, but this time the words felt hollow and meaningless.

“No. Relationships are not distractions and you know that. Look at John, look at Mary, and look at Molly. Each of them would jump in front of a bullet to protect me. That type of loyalty cannot be bought brother mine. You are embarrassed by your reactions to her. It is bloody obvious so don’t try and deny it, but you needn't be embarassed."

Sherlock leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table as he continued. “Don’t think I can’t see the loneliness in your eyes Mycroft. For once in your life allow yourself to be human. Allow yourself _this._ ”

Mycroft squeezed the handle of his umbrella so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He desperately to deny it. To deny that he had feelings for Molly, and to deny himself a chance to have the same loyalty and friendship that others so freely gave Sherlock.

“Stop thinking so much, I can practically hear your thoughts you are thinking so loud,” Sherlock said. “For once in your life stop thinking so goddamn much.”  

That struck a chord with Mycroft, and he found himself exhaling deeply. He made his decision, and immediately felt the tension leave his body. He knew what he needed to do.

Sherlock huffed a little and rolled his eyes. “Thank god. I was beginning to wonder if you were a lost cause. Now… since you are thinking clearly for the first time in weeks, how about we solve this case before either Molly or myself end up dead, hm?”

Mycroft leaned back in his chair and nodded. “I have narrowed it down to 12 possible suspects. Each of whom have been negatively affected by the British government within the past 10 years.” He pulled the files out of his briefcase and slid them across the table to Sherlock. The younger Holmes brother didn’t hesitate to consume the information written on the pages, making small comments as he did.

Sherlock was half way through the 6th file when one of Mycroft’s personal security details entered the room with a look of urgency on his face. “Sir, Dr. Molly Hooper has been taken,” he said. “The three agents assigned to her were left unconscious in their various positions around the flat. We believe we have possible video feed of the car the attacker used to kidnap her back at base.”

Mycroft felt a wave of debilitating panic overtake him. He should have never allowed Molly to be out of his sight, even for a moment until the killer had been caught.

“Mycroft, _bloody hell,_ Mycroft!” He snapped his head to Sherlock who was looking at him with an irritated expression on his face. “We need to find her Mycroft, and in order to do that you _must_ clear your head. Get it together!”

Mycroft never thought he would be on the receiving end of such a speech, but it worked, and snapped him into action. Both Holmes brothers then followed the agent to the waiting car just outside of Sherlocks temporary flat. It was raining hard, but he couldn’t even find it within himself to care. He didn’t even bother to open his umbrella, instead choosing to feel the cool rain on his face as he walked to the car.

Sherlock and Mycroft sunk into the leather seats without comment, and it wasn’t until the car had started moving that he realized something was very _very_ wrong with the whole situation. If there had been video feed of the kidnappers car, Mycroft’s assistant would have forwarded him the details immediately. They wouldn’t have waited until they reached base to show it to him.

Mycroft looked closely around the car, noticing small details that were not present in his regular vehicle. The color of the black seats was slightly off, and the space between each individual stitch in the leather was larger than what it had been previously.

This wasn’t his car.

“Sherlock,” he whispered. “I believe we have been played.”

Sherlock’s head snapped to him. “How?”

“This isn’t my normal car. It is a close match, but not close enough.”

The younger Holmes brother looked around the space for a moment before nodding. “Alright. So we have been kidnapped.”

“So it would seem,” murmured Mycroft. He looked toward the driver, noting the thick layer of glass between them which had been meant for privacy. There was no way for them to reach the driver before he would reach them. Mycroft pulled out his phone and sent a text to his assistant. As he was doing this, he said, “They obviously weren’t expecting us to notice before we reached the destination, which means it must be close by. I have texted Anthea, explaining the situation. She will track my phone and send back up after us. If they had truly wanted to kidnap us and prevent us from escaping, why did they not take our phones?”

“There were many other agents present at my flat Mycroft. This way allowed the driver to avoid a confrontation with them. Taking our phones would have given it away don’t you think?”

“Well brother mine, what would you recommend we do?”

“Do you have any weapons on you?”

Mycroft smirked a little and pulled the handle of his umbrella, revealing the sword within just enough for Sherlock to see. His brother returned his smirk and pulled a pocket knife out of his pocket.

“Good,” said Sherlock. “Now we wait until we arrive our destination. With any luck, they are leading us straight to Molly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me for the cliffhanger haha. I hope to update soon!


	5. I'll Protect You

Molly blinked quickly, trying to focus and get her bearings. There was a bright light shining in her face, and she felt the ache in her shoulders from her wrists being tied up behind her. After a few moments she was able to see clearly. She was alone in a mostly empty warehouse, with only a few wooden crates nearby.

Panic began to set in as she realized the seriousness of her situation. She had been reading contently in her living room when she heard a strange sound coming from her kitchen. Thinking it was either Sherlock or Mycroft, she put down her book and went to investigate. As she rounded the corner with a smile on her face, someone grabbed her from behind and stuck a needle into her neck. She tried to fight back and yell for help, but whatever the kidnapper had injected into her was fast acting, and she quickly fell unconscious.

Now she was tied up in an old warehouse, completely unable to protect herself from whatever was coming next. She looked around for anything she could use to help escape, but there was nothing. Even the chair she was sitting in was bolted to the floor. She was stuck, and she had no idea if help was even on the way.

She waited in silence for a long while, trying to keep her breathing even, and calm. Panicking would only prevent her from thinking clearly, and that was the last thing she needed right now.

Molly froze when she heard footsteps echo through the warehouse, and she fought the urge to cry when she heard a manic laugh from somewhere behind her. She began to shake uncontrollably as the footsteps gradually got closer. This wasn’t how she wanted to die. She finally had true friends in Mycroft, John, Mary and Sherlock, and she wasn’t even going to live long enough to enjoy it.

She had even begun to have feelings for Mycroft. Underneath his cold Iceman exterior, he was kind, gentle, and understanding in a way that few others were. He was just as lonely as she was, and if the way he kissed her palm was any indication, his feelings for her were growing as well.

Molly hadn’t even had time to express her feelings for him, and that thought left an empty pit in her stomach. She didn’t want to die like the agents she had performed autopsies on. She still had so much life yet to live.

“Hello Molly Hooper,” a voice said from behind her. “I have been looking forward to this.”

She whimpered pitifully when a hand clamped on her shoulder briefly before releasing her. Suddenly Eric, her assistant from Mycroft’s lab appeared in front of her with a wide grin on his face, and insanity in his eyes.

“You…” she whispered.

“Yes me,” he practically sang. “Hiding in plain sight. Even the great Mycroft Holmes was blind to what was right in front of him.”

“How could you?”

The grin disappeared on his face, and was replaced by a sneer. “How could I? How could I?! How could Mycroft Holmes reject me? Me! A perfect example of what an agent should be! I trained for years to become an MI6 agent, but when the final interview came I was rejected by his department. I tried THREE TIMES to become an agent, and each time I was turned away. He dismissed me so completely that he didn’t even understand the meaning of the number three I carved into my victims. I gave him a clue as to who I was by telling him how many times he destroyed me, but he didn’t see. He didn’t even notice me when I was standing next to him in the lab,” said Eric as he paced back and forth in front of her. “So I decided to teach him a lesson by killing his agents. I was better than all of them you know, killing them wasn’t even that hard. You would think they would have been harder to kill, but no… it was easy.”

By that point Molly had tears running down her face, wishing more than anything she could escape this madman. “Why me? I haven’t done anything to you. I was kind to you when we worked together.”

“Yes you were,” he admitted with a nod. “But that is beside the point. You are here because Mycroft Holmes fancies you, and killing you would shatter his cold heart.”

“Please,” she begged.

But instead of hearing her, he grinned and pulled a knife out of his pocket. He opened the blade, and carefully dragged it across her cheek. It wasn’t enough pressure to cut her, but she was utterly terrified in that moment. He was going to kill her, and she couldn’t even fight back.

He moved the knife to her neck as he whispered, “This is going to be sooooo much fun. I am going to make you unrecognizable.”

He stepped back from her, taking the knife with him. “It’s just too bad we have to wait.”

She looked up at him with confusion on her face, so he laughed gleefully and explained,

“Oh did I forget to mention that we are going to have an audience? Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes are on their way here now, kidnapped by a dear friend of mine. I am going to make Mycroft watch me cut you to pieces first, then I will make him watch me kill his beloved brother. The only two people in the world he cares about will be killed right in front of him, and then I will leave him tied up in this warehouse while I escape. He will be forced to live the rest of his life alone, and in misery.”

“He will find you,” she said before she could stop herself. “And when he finds you he will kill you.”

“No he won’t," he said. Then he bent down and whispered in her ear, "because there is an east wind coming.”

She shook her head, thinking he had completely lost his mind. “You are insane.”

“Maybe,” he replied with a high pitched laugh. “But then who gets to decide who is sane and who is not? Maybe I am the only sane one and the rest of you are delusional.”

More tears began to fall down Molly’s face as she realized how impossible her situation was. She was never going to be able to convince him to let her go, he was too far gone.

Before she could say anything else she heard the sound of a metal scraping against metal in the distance. Eric smiled down a her, “Our guests have arrived. Now the fun can begin.”

Eric looked behind him, staring at the lone figure walking closer to them with every second. It was dark enough that they couldn’t see the figures face, and it wasn’t until they were nearly 10 feet away that Molly recognized them.

“Sherlock,” she breathed, relief running through her. But thar relief was short lived because Eric jumped to stand behind her, knife to her throat.

“Where is Mycroft and the driver,” hissed Eric.

Fury was practically blazing through Sherlock’s eyes as he stepped closer. Molly had never seen him look so terrifying and dangerous.

“My brother and your driver are both dead. The driver killed my brother, and in return I killed the driver. And now… I’m going to kill you. He is dead because of you.”  

Sherlock took another step closer, but stopped when Eric increased pressure on the knife to her throat. “Take one more step and I swear I will cut her throat in a way it cannot be repaired. She would bleed out in seconds.”

Molly felt sick to her stomach, and she sobbed. “No, Sherlock he can’t be dead, please no…”

“Shut up!” yelled Eric. “I don’t believe you, I don’t believe you, I don’t believe you. I need to hurt him, I need to kill him, Where is he!”

“I’m right here,” whispered a deadly voice from behind them. Then all Molly could hear was a gasp, followed by a gurgling sound that she realized came from Eric. She felt the knife fall from her throat, then heard a loud thud, and the sound of metal hitting the concrete floor.

Before she could even figure out what had happened, Mycroft appear in front of her, worry written on his face.

“You’re not dead…” she whispered in awe.

“No my dearest Molly, I’m not dead,” he replied as he used Eric’s knife to free her from the ropes.

As soon as she was able to move, she flung her arms around his shoulders and buried her face into his chest. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again,” she sobbed.

“I’m right here and I will protect you. It was just a distraction. I promise I’m not going anywhere,” he replied as he wrapped his arms tightly around her.

She kept her face buried in his chest even as Mycroft’s crew came in and he began giving them orders to collect evidence. She could hear many people walking around them and talking, but she couldn’t care. All that mattered was that she was safe, and that Mycroft was alive.

After a long while exhaustion set in and she slumped against him, unable to support herself any longer. Mycroft just swept an arm under her legs and lifted her into his arms to carry her. “I've got you Molly,” he whispered.

He carried her from the warehouse out to a waiting black car. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Sherlock following them, although he got into a different car from the one Mycroft approached. Mycroft’s driver opened the door for them and he went inside, still carrying Molly in his arms.

She was sitting comfortably in his lap as the car began to drive away. She wanted to know what happened, but she was too exhausted and emotional to ask.

“Mycroft,” she whispered. “I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

She took a deep shuddering breath, knowing she needed to say it before the opportunity passed. “I have feelings for you. I… I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, and I understand if you don’t feel the same way…”

“Molly,” he said, but she kept talking.

“I don’t expect anything to come out of that but I just needed to tell you..”

“Molly,” he repeated with more force. “Look at me.”

She slowly raised her eyes to look at his handsome face, feeling rather terrified of being rejected. He stared at her for a long moment, before cupping her cheek in his free hand and lowering his mouth to hers. His lips were soft and warm as they brushed slowly against hers. Her heart was racing, and it only got worse when he whispered against her lips,

“Molly, you don’t have to worry. I want this, I want you.”

He kissed her again, deepening it after a moment. It took a lot of effort on her part not to moan into his mouth. He was much more skilled than she could have ever imagined, although she probably should have guessed that he would be good at everything he did in life.

Molly forced herself to pull away after awhile, and took a moment to catch her breath. She saw the way his eyes had darkened, and she found herself whispering,

“C-could we take this slow? I have had many bad relationships in the past, and…”

“Of course,” he cut in with a nod. “We will take things as slow as you want Molly. I want you to feel safe and happy with me.”

“I do feel safe with you Mycroft. I feel safer with you than I have ever felt with anyone in my life.”

He leaned down and touched his forehead to hers, “Good, that’s good,” he whispered. “I will always protect you.”    

 


	6. The Ritz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of this story, Molly's relationship with Tom happened earlier on, and ended before Sherlock returned from his fall.

Molly smiled as she accepted the bouquet of red roses from the delivery man at the door.

“Thank you,” she said, before closing the door of her flat and walking into her kitchen to find a vase.

It had been almost two weeks since ‘the incident’, as she was calling it. Mycroft had deemed it safe for her to return home, but had immediately set out to search for any other situations in which Eric could have been involved. She hadn’t seen him since that day, and the only time she had spoken to him was when he called her to explain he had to leave the country for an entire week to handle an international crisis. She had assured him that she understood his job was important, and would always come first in his life. He had thanked her for understanding, and promised to take her out for dinner once he returned.

Molly carefully removed the note from the envelope that had been sent with the flowers, and smiled as she read,

 

**_My Dearest Molly,_ **

**_Dinner tomorrow night at The Ritz. I will pick you up at 6:30._ **

**_\- M_ **

 

The smile only lasted a few moments until she realized she had nothing to wear. Mycroft was one of the most powerful people in all of Britain, and the last thing she wanted was to embarrass him.

She spent a few moments debating what to do, before she picked up the phone and called Mary.

Thankfully, Mary answered after the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hello Mary,” Molly breathed. “I need your help.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Well… no, not exactly. I have a date tonight, and I have nothing acceptable to wear.”

She could practically hear Mary’s smile through the phone. “Ooooo, a date? It’s about time you  started dating again after Tom. Who is the lucky man?”

Molly couldn’t help but smile a little, “Mary you’re never going to believe this, but it’s Mycroft Holmes.”

There was a long pause before Mary replied. “Mycroft Holmes? The Mycroft Holmes? As in Sherlock’s brother?”

“Yes Mary, Sherlock’s brother,” replied Molly with a laugh.

“Oh my god. Well I never saw that coming. I didn’t know the Iceman dated anyone.”

“Neither did I,” she said. “We have been friends for awhile now, and I truly didn’t think we would ever be more than that. So will you help me find a dress for tomorrow night? He has only ever seen me in a lab coat, and I want to impress him.”

“Of course Molly, John should be home in about two hours. How about we meet up then?”

“Okay that sounds good. See you then.”

Two hours later Mary and Molly were standing in a higher end boutique she had never seen before. It was filled with beautiful gowns and jewelry, and Molly felt a little bit out of her depth. She had never been one to spend a lot of money on her wardrobe, often times just opting to buy from cheaper stores.

She had never wanted to impress someone as badly as she wanted to impress Mycroft. She fancied him, more so than any of her past boyfriends. Even Tom was nothing when compared to Mycroft.

The older Holmes brother had the same intensity as Sherlock, the same intelligence. But where Sherlock was impulsive, anxious, and rude, Mycroft was levelheaded, calm, and considerate. He was fascinating, and she didn’t want to ruin her chances with him

“What about this one,” asked Molly, holding up a bright pink dress.

Mary frowned deeply and shook her head. “Mycroft Holmes is a professional, and you are one as well. Bright colors are to be avoided at all costs.”

She then held up two dresses. One was a strapless, shimmering bronze dress, while the other was a emerald green dress with a high neckline, and lace overlay. They were both stunning, and Molly rushed to try them on.

Both dresses fit perfectly, and she had a difficult time deciding between the two. After she spent a while debating internally, Mary suggested,

“Why don’t you get both? Wear the bronze dress tonight, and wear the green dress the next time you have a date.”

“Who said anything about a next time… I mean, what if he hates our date?”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Molly, you look stunning in that dress, and from what John and Sherlock told me before I left the flat, Mycroft likes you a lot. You don’t have anything to worry about, I’m sure of it.”

“Thank you Mary,” she replied in a small voice.

 

* * *

 

That next night Molly spent a very long time doing her hair and makeup. She wanted to look perfect for him. Mycroft was always dressed elegantly, and she wanted to be worthy enough to stand by his side.

The car pulled up outside of her flat at exactly 6:30, and as she walked outside, Arthur opened the door for her. He smiled at her in greeting and said, “Mr. Holmes apologizes, but he was forced to work longer than expected today. He has asked me to tell you he will meet you at the restaurant.”

“How is he?” She asked as she sunk into the leather seat.

Arthur looked a little conflicted, then he admitted, “It is not my place to discuss such things, but out of concern for my employer, I will tell you he seems… off.”

“Off? What do you mean off?”

“You will see soon enough I believe. Perhaps you can help him.”

Molly just frowned, wondering what could possibly be wrong. As the car pulled away from her flat, she decided she would just have to wait and see. She could only hope he would be comfortable enough to talk to her about what was bothering him.

It was 20 minutes later when the car reached The Ritz. Mycroft was standing there near the entrance of the restaurant, leaning against his black umbrella, seemingly staring off into space, deep in thought. He looked tired, and defeated she decided. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. She could see the dark circles under his eyes, and she could see the slight change in his posture. These changes would have gone unnoticed by anyone else, but after spending time with him during the case, Molly was able to read him fairly well. She felt a spark of worry go through her seeing him like this. He was normally so intense, and formidable. Seeing him look so unsteady was alarming. She understood now what Arthur had meant earlier.

Molly took a deep breath and walked towards him, deciding to wait and see if he would tell her what was wrong. He saw her once she got closer, and his face brightened ever so slightly. He ran his eyes up and down her form, and she could only hope the dress was well-suited enough for the occasion.

Mycroft walked towards her and met her halfway. He bent to kiss her cheek once he was standing in front of her and murmured, “You look lovely.”

Molly smiled brightly, her fears swept away by his compliment. “Thank you, so do you,” she replied honestly, and truly he did. He was dressed immaculately in a three piece suit, with a dark red silk jacket, a crisp white dress shirt. black waistcoat, black tie, and black trousers. She had never seen him any other color except for black, navy blue, and gray, so seeing him dressed like this made her mouth go a little bit dry.

He just smiled down at her, and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

Molly just smiled back and laced her arm through his, allowing him to lead her inside. The staff seemed to recognize Mycroft, because they didn’t even hesitate to lead them to a table in a secluded corner of the restaurant.

Mycroft pulled out her chair for her like he always did when they ate together, but she still found herself blushing as he did. A few of her past boyfriends had been chivalrous, but Mycroft put them all to shame with his grace and charisma. She doubted she would ever meet another man like Mycroft Holmes in her lifetime.

They entered conversation easily while they waited for their food, and ate in comfortable silence. They understood that not every moment together needed to be spent in conversation, and she could tell Mycroft was grateful for that. She was beginning to realize he was a rather tranquil man, who needed time to reflect on conversations.

Once the food was nearly gone however, she noticed a change in his demeanor. He looked behind her at the wall, and his eyes glazed over a little. It looked as if he were reliving a distant memory, and his hand began to shake a little. He looked like the troubled man who had been standing outside the restaurant before he spotted her, and she found herself feeling very worried for him.

She reached across the table and gently took his hand so not to startle him. “Mycroft,” she whispered.

His eyes focused on her again, and he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not you, it’s just... I can’t...“

“Hey,” she interrupted. “Why don’t we get out of here? Maybe we can go somewhere more private and talk?”

He nodded and closed his eyes for a moment. He took several deep breaths, before standing and pulling out her chair. She laced her arm with his, and gave it a reassuring squeeze as he lead her out of the restaurant.

Mycroft’s black jaguar was waiting there for them when they stepped outside, and the driver opened the door for them. Once seated inside, Molly took his hand and squeezed it tightly. She wanted to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering him, but knew he would want to wait until they were completely alone.

“Take us to Molly’s flat,” Mycroft told the driver, and they were off.

They sat there in silence until they reached her flat about 20 minutes later. Mycroft got out of the car first, and held out his hand for her. She took it, and waited for him as he gave Arthur instructions to return when he called.

Together they walked to the front door of her flat, and she still felt his hand shaking a little in hers.

Once the door was closed behind them, she led him to her sofa and sat down. He took a deep shuddering breath as he sat down beside her and closed his eyes. Molly moved closer to him and cupped his jaw in her hand.

“Mycroft, what’s wrong? I've never seen you like this…”  

“I killed them,” he said suddenly, keeping his eyes closed. “Eric, and his driver. I killed them.”

Molly’s eyes widened, taken aback by his declaration. She had known he killed them both. He had killed the driver because the driver had been seconds away from shooting Sherlock with a gun when they arrived at the warehouse, and he had killed Eric because he had been seconds away from slitting her throat.

“You saved my life, and you saved Sherlock, Mycroft. You did what you had to do, and I am very thankful that you were strong enough to do so.”

“Before I held my current position, I was an agent. I have killed people before Molly. You should know that about me before you get too involved,” he said in a shaking voice.

There was something in the way he spoke that made her ask, “Why did you stop being an agent?”

He opened his eyes and looked at her. He stared at her for a long moment with a conflicted expression on his face. “I couldn’t keep killing, it was destroying me. I fled to politics to avoid having to do it again.”

He paused for a long moment, before he added, “It took me a very long time to recover from what I had to do, and now I have just done it again. I can’t… I didn’t want to…”

Molly slid over until she was sitting in his lap. He looked at her in surprise, but she leaned over and kissed him before he could say anything. It wasn’t passionate, or overwhelming. It was reassuring.

When she pulled away, she brushed her thumb across his jaw, and looked into his golden eyes. “Mycroft, I am very sorry you had to do that because of me. But you saved my life. You are not a bad man. You did what you had to do for our country, and to protect those you cared for. You are a very good man, better than you realize.”

“You really believe that?” He asked with a frown.

“Yes,” she said seriously.

In that moment he looked as if he had never before considered that possibility. He looked like a vulnerable man who had spent his entire life believing he was a terrible human being, and she felt sorry for him.

“Sherlock doesn’t believe that,” he murmured. “Sherlock thinks I’m a monster.”

Molly just shook her head. “No he doesn’t. He may not admit it, but he loves you very much. Just as much as you love him. You are not a bad person, so don’t let this eat away at you, please.”

That seemed to strike a chord with him, because he pulled her tighter against him and kissed her hard.

When they separated to catch their breath Mycroft said, “I’m sorry, I ruined our dinner. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You didn’t ruin anything Mycroft. Next time if something like this is affecting you, you should tell me. I would have been more than willing to skip dinner entirely. I don’t like seeing you like this, I would much rather stay home and help you than watch you suffer through dinner.”

She placed a gentle kiss on his lips before asking, “This has been bothering you since that day hasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Next time you should tell me sooner instead of suffering alone. You don’t have to do this alone you know. I know this thing between us is new, but I still see you as my friend, and I want my friends to be happy. I’ll be here for you whenever you need me.”

He stared at her for another long moment before he admitted, “I have never been in a relationship like this before Molly. There have been brief sexual encounters, but I have never seriously considered a relationship with anyone until I met you.” He reached up to stroke her cheek as he continued, “This is new to me. I may not always tell you when something is wrong because I have always dealt with my problems on my own. Please don’t be afraid to confront me when you notice something is wrong. Talking to you has helped more than I thought it would.”

“Okay,” she said with a smile. “I will.”

He returned her smile with a tired one of his own. She frowned and asked, “When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?”

“Probably three days ago. I’m not sure.”

“You should go home and rest, you need it.”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I would much rather be here with you. I like being near you.”

She smiled a little. “Alright then. How about we watch a movie?”

“A movie?" He said with a slight frown. "I can’t remember the last time I watched a movie.”

“Well why don’t you make yourself more comfortable, and I will pick one out?”

He seemed skeptical, but nodded as she stood from his lap. He began unbuttoning his suit jacket as she walked into her bedroom to change out of her dress. She decided to wear a pair of dark blue jeans, and a simple white button up shirt since they were staying in.

Once she was dressed, she picked up a movie off of her shelf, and walked back out into her living room.

The sight that awaited her once she entered the living room was enough to make her mouth go dry. Mycroft had removed his jacket, waistcoat, tie, and shoes. Leaving him in his crisp white dress shirt and black trousers. He had unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt, and the little bit of skin revealed to her had a stronger effect on her than she had expected.

He caught her staring, and smirked in a way that said he knew exactly where her thoughts had drifted. Molly cleared her throat a little, and went to put the movie in. Once everything was settled she joined Mycroft on the sofa. She leaned back against the pillows, and stretched her legs out the long way.

She reached for Mycroft’s arm and pulled him towards her. He gave her a curious look so she explained, “Lean against me. Trust me, it’s something couples do. It will help you relax, I promise.”

In the end he allowed her to guide him towards her. Her legs on either side of his hips, and his head leaning back against her chest. He was tense for a few moments, until she wrapped one arm around his chest, and reached up and began running her fingers through his dark hair with her free hand. She kissed the top of his head, and felt all of the tension leave his body. She couldn’t help but wonder when he last took some time to relax, and vowed to do her best to make him take better care of himself.

“What movie are we watching?” He asked.

“It’s called Dr. Strange. It just came out this year and it’s pretty good. The main character actually looks a lot like Sherlock.”

Mycroft just hummed in response, and silently watched the movie that had begun to play.

After a long while he reached for her hand on his chest and squeezed it. “Thank you Molly,” he whispered.

“What for?”

“For this. It’s simple, and easy. My life is rarely so simple.”

She just placed another kiss on the top of his head. “You’re welcome.”

A short while later she heard his breathing even out, and saw his head turn to the side a little. Molly smiled as she realized he had fallen asleep. She reached for the remote to turn off the tv, and pulled the blanket off of the back of her sofa to cover the both of them. She was glad he had fallen asleep. He definitely needed it, and she worried if she woke him he would just return to work.  

She continued to run her fingers through his hair, and listen to his deep breathing until sleep pulled her under as well.


	7. Dreamless

Mycroft was slow to wake, feeling more relaxed and content than he had in a very long time. He was warm and comfortable, but as he became more aware, he realized he wasn’t alone.

He tensed when he realized someone had their arms draped across his chest, but then relaxed as the memories of the night before returned to him. He had been watching a movie with Molly. He had told her he wanted to be near her, so she had chosen a movie for them to watch together. He must have fallen asleep.

That fact surprised him, because never before had he allowed himself to fall asleep when another person was present. He had never trusted anyone enough to do so, but here he was, stretched out on the sofa with Molly Hooper in her flat.

He looked to the window, noticing it was still dark outside. He carefully pulled himself from Molly’s grasp and stood from the sofa. As he stood beside her, and stared down at her sleeping form, he couldn’t help but wonder why she hadn’t ordered him out of her flat the previous night. He had admitted to being a murderer, and instead of being scared of him, she kissed him.

Mycroft didn’t understand her, but he was thankful she had let him stay. For the past few weeks he had felt unstable, and distressed. But spending time with Molly had quieted his mind and eased his anxiety regarding the incident with Eric and the driver. She calmed him when she was near, and he was surprised by his reactions to her.

Mycroft bent down and carefully slid his arms underneath her shoulders and knees so not to wake her. He picked her up, and smiled a little when she buried her face into his shoulder. She was beautiful like this he thought. Her face was peaceful while she slept, the stress of the day eased away from her features.  

He carried her into her bedroom, and gently placed her on her bed. He covered her with the blanket from the sofa, and brushed his fingers across her alabaster cheek. He had already overstayed his welcome by falling asleep, he needed to leave before Molly decided he was overstepping.

He pulled away from her and prepared to leave, but before he could a hand clasped around his own.

“Mycroft,” Molly whispered with closed eyes. “Stay.”

“You want me to stay?”

In response she just pulled him closer to her, and moved over on the bed. Mycroft sat on the edge of the bed and asked, “Are you sure?”

Molly cracked open one eye and smiled just a little. “Yes I’m sure. Now come here.”

Mycroft laid down beside her, while she snuggled into his chest and pulled the blanket over them both. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him and enjoying the warmth her body radiated.

“Why do you want me to stay?”

She just hummed and placed a single kiss at the base of his throat. “I know that if you leave now you will likely just go to work. You need your sleep Mr. Holmes. And besides that… I like being near you like this. You make me feel safe.”

Mycroft pulled back just a little and looked at her, just now noticing the tiredness in her eyes. He sighed deeply then and internally berated himself for not noticing earlier. He had been so caught up in his own problems that he failed to notice what what staring him in the face.

“You’ve been having nightmares,” he said. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

She looked embarrassed then, and hid her face in his chest. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about Molly. You survived a terrible event. It is to be expected that you still think about it.” He paused then, and forced himself to admit, “I have nightmares sometimes, about… about what I did.”

She removed her face from his chest and looked up at him, her beautiful, warm brown eyes shining in the darkness. Mycroft leaned down to kiss her, and whispered against her lips, “We can help each other through this Molly. We will be alright. I will protect you.”

He kissed her again, this time feeling her smile against his lips. “I know you will,” she said when they separated. “I trust you. Now how about we get some sleep?”

“Yes,” he replied, and pulled her tighter against him.

With the feel of her breath on his neck, and the knowledge that he wasn’t alone this time, Mycroft fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

“Ah domestic life suits you brother.”

Mycroft just rolled his eyes as he stepped in to Baker Street, deciding he was better off ignoring Sherlock’s taunts. But before he could change the subject John walked out of the kitchen, “Domestic life? What’s he talking about?”

Mycroft sent his brother a warning glare, but Sherlock just smirked. “Didn’t I tell you John? Mycroft and Molly Hooper are together.”

“What?” John said incredulously. “Mycroft and Molly? You have got to be joking.”

“I’m not,” replied Sherlock.

John turned to Mycroft and looked at him suspiciously. “You don’t do relationships Mycroft, so what are you playing at? What are you using her for?”

Mycroft narrowed his eyes, and was about to deny using Molly in any form, but Sherlock plucked at his violin and said, “He’s not using her John. Surprisingly enough, Mycroft actually fancies her.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I know my brother well enough.”

John stared at Mycroft for another long moment before nodding, “Alright then,” he said as he reached for his coat, “Mary and I have a date tonight. Goodbye Sherlock, Mycroft.”

Once he was gone Mycroft sat down across from Sherlock in John’s chair. “You know Sherlock, you mock me about entering a relationship with Molly, but don’t think it has escaped my notice that you wish for a relationship of your own.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh come on now Sherlock, it’s obvious. The way you look at John when you think he isn’t looking? How much more obvious can you get?”

Sherlock seemed genuinely surprised that Mycroft had noticed the affection he felt towards John Watson.

Mycroft tipped his head and asked, “Did you truly think I wouldn’t notice?”

“I…”

“And here's a better question. Why haven’t you done anything about it brother mine?”

“John is getting married in a few months and… alright change of subject,” said Sherlock as he stood from his chair, and moved to the window. “Why are you here Mycroft?”

“I have encountered a problem with the investigation.”

Sherlock turned to face him with narrowed eyes. “What kind of problem?”

“According to everything I have found thus far, Eric Taylor should not have been able to access the information he needed in order to commit his crimes. At least not within his position as a lab assistant.”

“He had help?”

“He must have. It would have been impossible otherwise, but he hasn’t been in contact with anyone who has sufficient security clearance.”

“Are you sure?” asked Sherlock. “There are many ways one can hide meetings and conversations.”

“I am very sure,” replied Mycroft confidently. He had placed trackers and nano-recording devices on every government employee with high security clearance several years earlier after one government employee joined, and led an attempt to plant a bomb in the heart of London. Mycroft didn’t trust anyone he worked with. It was the safest way to ensure betrayals didn’t surprise him.

“So a hacker of some kind then?”

“Must be. I have my people looking into it, but perhaps you wouldn’t mind doing a little digging yourself?”

Sherlock sat back down and smirked, “Are you calling in one of your favors Mycroft?”

“Yes,” he replied in a regretful tone. “I’m afraid I have little choice in the matter. He was able to get to you, Molly, and myself. I will not allow that to happen again.”

“Very well brother, I will see what I can do.”

“Excellent,” said Mycroft as he stood up and buttoned his suit jacket.

“How is she?”

He looked strangely at Sherlock for a moment before saying, “She is well.”

“Are you taking care of her?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I know your views on attachment brother mine,” said Sherlock. “I am surprised you haven’t run for the hills by now.”

“I don’t plan on running anytime soon Sherlock. Molly deserves better than that.”

Sherlock nodded in agreement. “Yes she does, so take good care of her Mycroft.”

The Iceman nodded once curtly before gliding from the room. There was work to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! I promise I will make the next one longer. Thank you everyone for reading!


	8. Glowing Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a little shorter than usual, I will make the next one longer.

**_Are you available this evening? -Mycroft_ **

Molly smiled down at the text from Mycroft. They had been on several dates so far, and she had truly grown to appreciate his company. Mycroft exuded authority and intelligence. He was always in control, and Molly found that comforting. She knew whenever he was near that she was safe.

She bit her lip as she typed out her answer,

**_Yes. I finished work early. -MH xx_ **

**_Good. Arthur will pick you up at 7, I have made plans for us this evening. -Mycroft_ **

She decided to tease him a little, so she wrote,

**_Oh did you now? What if I don’t feel like spending time with the British Government tonight? -MH xx_ **

**_If that is the case, I will cancel my plans. I apologize for being presumptuous. -Mycroft_ **

Molly frowned deeply, Mycroft thought she was being serious. She pulled up his number on her phone and decided to call him. He picked up after the third ring,

“Molly,” he said, his voice cold.

“I’m sorry Mycroft,” she said. “I was joking in my last text. I would love to spend time with you tonight. Forgive me please, I’m sorry.”

She heard him sigh deeply, “I apologize, I thought you were being genuine when you said you didn’t want to see me.”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t want to see you?”

There was a long pause before he replied. “I am new to relationships Molly. I’m not always sure if I’m overstepping, or if I’m making you happy. I… care for you, so I am being cautious.”

His admission made her smile a little. “Mycroft you make me very happy. I care for you as well, and I promise if something is wrong I will tell you. Communication is important in relationships, so I expect you to do the same if something is bothering you. I’m sorry if I made you think I didn’t want to see you.”

“It's alright Molly, I apologize for making assumptions.”

“Now about tonight, what should I wear?”

“Dress formally my dear,” he said. “Now, I must go. I have a meeting in 10 minutes. I shall see you this evening?”

“Yes, I can’t wait. Goodbye Mycroft.”

“Goodbye Molly.”

 

 

* * *

 

Just as Mycroft said, the car was waiting for her at seven. Arthur was there, holding the door open for her as she approached. She gave him a thankful smile before getting in the car.

Molly wanted to ask where they were going, but she knew Arthur had been instructed not to tell her. Instead of asking questions she started daydreaming, imagining all the possible dates Mycroft could have planned for the evening.

She watched as the city flew by, eventually turning into countryside. Every moment that passed, her curiosity grew. Why was she all the way out here?

Eventually Arthur pulled off the main road, and ventured towards an open field, but before she could really see anything, Arthur parked the car behind several trees blocking her view.

She was about to ask him where they were, but before she could, her door opened.

Molly smiled brightly when she saw Mycroft standing there, looking dreadfully handsome in a full tuxedo.  He returned her smile, and held out his hand. Molly took it, and he helped her from the car.

She surprised him by reaching up to take his face in her hands, and pulled him down to kiss her. She felt him smile against her lips,

“Hmmmm… thank you,” he whispered as he pulled back. “You look stunning my dear.”  

Molly placed both hands on his chest, and breathed in his delicious scent. “So do you Mr. Holmes. What do you have planned for tonight?”

Mycroft just raised an eyebrow and smirked, “Why don’t you follow me and find out?”

Molly gave him a smile, and laced her arm through his. She allowed him to lead her around the trees, and into the open field.

“Oh my god,” she gasped when she saw what he had planned for them. “Mycroft… how?”

“You seem to forget my dear that I _am_ the British government.”

Molly just laughed, and continued walking with him to the sleek black helicopter situated in the middle of the field.

As they stepped alongside it, Molly was surprised by the lack of a pilot, or other staff.

She turned to her boyfriend and asked, “Who is going to fly it?”

“Me, of course,” he replied, looking smug.

“You can fly a helicopter?”

Mycroft placed a hand on the small of her back, and guided her into the helicopter. He put his lips by her ear just before she climbed inside, and whispered suggestively,

“I can do many things... my dear.”

She immediately gasped, her cheeks turning bright red as she turned to look at him. He was giving her his trademark smirk, and there was a glint of playfulness in his eyes that she had rarely seen before. She leaned over in her seat to give him a quick kiss, deciding she liked this playful side of him.

Molly gave him a suggestive look of her own, “I can’t wait to witness more of your abilities Mr. Holmes.”

He chuckled as he closed the door, and moved to the otherside of the helicopter. She watched him, biting her lip as he glided gracefully to the pilot’s seat. He was almost _too_ handsome at times, and she wondered (not for the first time) why he was interested in her.

She continued staring at him as they both put on headsets, and as he began using his long dexterous fingers to start the helicopter. He caught her staring and asked with raised eyebrows, “Enjoying the view Dr. Hooper?”

“Very much so Mr. Holmes,” she replied with a smirk.

She felt a sense of triumph when Mycroft’s cheeks colored just a little. It was nice knowing she affected him just as much as he affected her.

He cleared his throat a little and asked, “Have you ever flown before?”

“On a plane yes, but not in a helicopter.”

“So your not afraid then?”

Molly sent him an honest smile, “With you as the pilot? No.”

That response seemed to make Mycroft very happy indeed, and he returned her smile before turning back to the controls in front of him.

It wasn’t long until the helicopter blades were spinning fast enough to allow them to take flight. Mycroft guided them over the thin treeline, gaining more altitude every second that passed. Molly watched in awe as they passed over fields glowing from the light of the full moon. The sky was uncharacteristically clear tonight, giving them a perfect view of the stars, and everything around them.

She saw the glittering lights of London in the distance, and turned to Mycroft to ask,

“Are we going to fly over London?”

“Of course,” he replied through the headset.

Her eyes widened a little, “You can do that?”

“British government, remember?”

Molly just rolled her eyes, secretly very impressed with his ability to control anything, and everything in their country.

"After the flight is over, I would like to take you to the theater to see Hamlet, if you are amenable," he said suddenly. 

Molly smiled broadly, "I didn't know you liked Shakespeare?" 

"He is clever in the way he writes. I can appreciate that." 

"Well in that case, I would love to go to the theater with you," she said honestly. 

He nodded, and went back to concentrating on the flight. 

Another ten minutes later, they were flying over the lively city, and she spent every second looking out at the monuments that made this city extraordinary. The London Eye, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, The Tower of London… Mycroft made sure not to miss anything, and he spent the flight telling her everything he knew about the landmarks. The man seemed to have an endless supply of knowledge, and once again Molly found herself impressed. Mycroft Holmes was misunderstood by nearly everyone he knew, and she felt privileged that he was willing to open up around her.

She stared at him as their tour came to an end, taking in his lean form, dark hair, and prominent facial features. This man was kind, and thoughtful. He went out of his way to spend time with her, and make her happy.

Molly was falling in love with him.

She knew it was probably too early to feel such things for him, but she couldn’t help it. He made it easy to fall in love with him.

She wouldn’t tell him for a very long time she decided. She didn’t want to scare him away by being too sentimental. Mycroft was new to relationships, and she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable in any way.

He looked over to her then, giving her a breathtaking smile as he did.

Mycroft Holmes was going to be the death of her.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to start heating up pretty quickly in the next chapter! Feedback is appreciated!


	9. The Balletic Couple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very fluffy and romantic chapter! Sorry! (Not really sorry.)

**_Dinner tonight? -Mycroft_ **

**_Of course, when and where? -MH xx_ **

**_My residence. Arthur will pick you up at 6:30. -Mycroft_ **

Molly’s eyes widened as she read his last text.

His residence.

He was inviting her into the privacy of his own home, and she didn’t know if she should be elated, or terrified by his level of trust for her.

She didn’t feel worthy of him most times. He was handsome, powerful, wealthy, intelligent… and she was just a pathologist. What could she offer him that he didn’t already have?

**_Stop worrying my dear. You are worth more than you realize. -Mycroft_ **

Molly frowned deeply, wondering how he possibly could have known what she was thinking when they weren’t even in the same room.

**_How did you…? -MH xx_ **

**_I know how you think Molly. If I were not in a meeting with the Prime Minister, I would come reassure you in person or call you. However, since that is not possible at the moment, understand this. You mean everything to me Molly Hooper, and I will spend the rest of our time together attempting to prove that to you. -Mycroft_ **

Tears burned in her eyes after reading that text, and she couldn’t help the ridiculous grin that spread across her face. If Mycroft planned on proving to her how much she meant to him, then she was going to do everything she could to make him happy. Mycroft Holmes was very nearly perfect in her mind, and she had never felt so strongly about a man before, and she wanted this relationship to last.

 

* * *

 

Several hours later, Molly was standing outside of one of the most impressive mansions she had ever seen. Grand windows, and detailed stone work gave the home an ancient, but warm aura. It was isolated, solid, and elegant, surrounded by many acres of both open fields, and forest. This place reminded her of Mycroft, and she could easily envision his tall figure walking smoothly across the grounds.

Perhaps the most impressive aspect of the property, was the large, elegantly flowing fountain situated in front of the opulent manor. At its center, two marble figures, a man and a woman dancing to silent music. The man had the woman held tightly in his arms as he lowered her into a dip. Their clothing looked to be fluttering gently in the breeze, and the love in their expressions was palpable. The balletic couple were intrinsically two halves of one whole, and Molly found herself envious of them.

“Beautiful, isn’t it.”

Molly turned around to see Mycroft, dressed handsomely in a navy blue and black dinner jacket, with a bow tie, and black trousers. He was standing there in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. He had a serious, but not unfriendly expression on his face. His expression was more open, and vulnerable than she was used to seeing, so she sent him a smile.

“Yes,” she said truthfully. “It is very beautiful.”

He stepped closer to her, and pulled her into his arms. He bent to kiss her, just a gentle brush of his lips against her own.

“That fountain has always mystified me. Ever since I was a child, I would find myself staring at it, wondering who they were, and what their lives together would have been like. I never really understood romantic love, but looking at them, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to belong to another human being completely. Mind, body, and soul.”

Molly wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she just cupped his jaw in her hand and pulled him down to kiss her again.

“Dinner shall be ready shortly,” he said once they separated. “But until then, I would like to give you a tour of Holmes Manor.”

Molly nodded, and threaded her arm through his. Mycroft began the tour, showing her the kitchen, dining room, library, and multiple parlours and studies. He explained that Holmes Manor had been in his family for many generations, and that he had grown up here with his parents and Sherlock. As soon as Sherlock left for University, the Holmes parents moved to a smaller cottage further out into the countryside, and handed down the manor to him. He had lived here alone ever since.

“Do you ever feel lonely here Mycroft? It is such a large place for one person.”

“Before I met you, I never needed anyone Molly. I was content in my isolation,” he explained. “I thought I was better off alone.”

Molly stopped walking and looked up at him, biting her lip nervously. “And now?”

He brushed his thumb across her cheek and smiled,

“And now I realize I was wrong. Isolation is no longer appealing. Now stop biting your lip Love, it drives me mad.”

Molly couldn’t help but smile brightly hearing his term of endearment for her. He returned her smile, and pulled her along with him.

“Dinner should be ready by now,” he said.

Instead of leading her to the dining room like she expected, he led her outside, through a set of french doors into the back yard. She was greeted by the sight of a beautifully tended garden, filled with delicate flowers she could not name, and perfectly manicured trees and hedges. Lights were strung between the trees, the dim glow giving the garden a tranquil atmosphere.

The sun had set by this point, but the summer night was still warm and pleasant. Molly took a deep breath of the country air, which was such a contrast to the air found in London’s busy vicinity. She couldn’t imagine there being a place more peaceful than Mycroft’s home.

As he led her down a path towards the garden’s center, Molly continued observing her surroundings. When she looked up at him, she noticed he was staring at her.

He had a strange look on his face, a look of disbelief, so she asked, “What is it?”

“Nothing really,” he replied. “I have simply never seen a more beautiful woman in my life.”

Molly blushed a deep shade of red and forced herself to look away from his intense gaze.

“Now you are just making things up,” she muttered.

Mycroft placed a finger underneath her chin to force her to look at him. His eyes were warm, and his smile was gentle, “No my dear, I am speaking the truth.”

She blushed an even deeper shade of red, causing him to chuckle.

“Come along Molly,” he said, still smiling. “We don’t want the food to get cold.”

Eventually they reached an open courtyard at the center of the garden, where a table was set with candles and beautiful flowers. Their food was already there waiting for them, and Mycroft, ever the gentleman, pulled her chair out for her. She sat down and turned back to look at him, her chin tipped up invitingly. He smirked, and accepted her invitation, kissing her gently over her shoulder before sitting across from her.

They ate slowly, savouring the delicious food, exquisite wine, and fascinating conversation. Mycroft allowed his witty sense of humor to reveal itself, and Molly enjoyed every second of it. She loved seeing the sides of his personality he normally kept buried.

As they finished their meal, Mycroft held his hand out to her and asked,

“How about a dance?”

She raised her eyebrows, “I’m not a very good dancer…”

“I’ll teach you,” he promised. He took out his phone and typed for a moment. A second later, a slow, harmonious melody began to play. Molly decided he must have speakers placed around the gardens for times such as this one. He held out his hand a second time, which she accepted hesitantly.

“Relax Molly, It’s just me,” he insisted with a smile.

She returned his smile, and allowed him to pull her into his arms. He started slow, coaching her through the steps. They both laughed when she stumbled, and continued on practicing until she was comfortable.

They stared into each other's eyes as they danced gracefully around the courtyard, gradually losing themselves in the other’s gaze. She felt safe in his arms. She felt important, and cared for, which wasn’t something she experienced often in her life.

It was because of this she whispered the words she swore she wouldn’t say,

“I love you.”

Mycroft stopped mid step, and stared down at her incredulously. “What did you say?”

Panic raced through her, “I-I, um… nothing.”

“No Molly, what did you say. Tell me.”

Molly swallowed hard, terrified he might reject her. “I said I loved you.”

She watched his throat bob a little. He looked slightly vulnerable, as if those words had never been spoken to him before.

“Say it again,” he whispered hoarsely.

“I love you Mycroft Holmes.”

Mycroft closed his eyes, and took a deep shuddering breath. Molly cupped his jaw in her hand, beginning to feel worried for him.

“Mycroft?”

He opened his eyes and whispered, “Say it one more time, please.”

Molly smiled, realizing he needed to be reassured that what she said was true. She stood on her toes, and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips, “I love you.”

He immediately crushed her body against his, and began kissing her with a passion that took her breath away. His kiss was desperate, needy, and very sentimental.

They only separated when the need to breathe became overwhelming. Mycroft stared at her with dark eyes, and spoke breathlessly, “I love you too Molly Hooper.”

“Take me to bed Mycroft,” she replied, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Please, I need you.”

He nodded and laced their fingers together as he pulled her from the gardens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will contain smut, fair warning!


	10. Fire and Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get to see a heated scene between Mycroft and Molly, before we move onto some brotherly bonding between the Holmes boys, and a growing friendship between Molly and Sherlock! This chapter is a lot longer than my usual chapters to make up for my lack of posts lately.

Molly’s skin was on fire where Mycroft was touching her. Her small hand was burning deliciously where it was clasped in his larger one.

Mycroft pulled her quickly through the house and up the stairs, turning to face her as they reached the top. He released her hand, instead choosing to pull her body against his before kissing her fiercely. Molly could feel the firm muscles of his chest, and the thudding of his heart under her palms. Every part of her _ached_ to be with him, to be joined with him in the most intimate of ways. Her brain was foggy with desire, and it was impossible to focus on anything other than the man holding her in his arms.

His lips were warm, soft, and insistent against hers, and she couldn’t help the moan that escaped her when his tongue stroked the roof of her mouth. Kissing Mycroft Holmes was like being thrown into a churning sea, where the treacherous waves threatened to drown her. He was overwhelming her in every sense of the word.

In that moment her world began, and ended with him.  

Molly gasped when he picked her up suddenly, his hands sliding underneath her bum to lift her upwards. She moved her hands from his chest, and threaded her fingers in his hair as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

They stopped kissing temporarily, and simply stared at one another while they struggled to catch their breath. Mycroft’s eyes were nearly black with desire, and his hair was disheveled where her fingers had run though it.

She wanted him more than she had ever wanted another man before, so she scratched her fingernails against his scalp to urge him on. Mycroft nearly growled with desire at the sensation, and crushed his mouth against hers once more.

He began walking down the long corridor towards what she assumed was his bedroom, but she didn’t pay any attention to her surroundings. She could only focus on the man whose firm body was rubbing deliciously against her own as he walked.

Mycroft roughly pushed his way through a set of double wooden doors, and deposited Molly on a plush, oversized bed.  

He stripped his clothing quickly, removing his jacket, cufflinks, pocket watch, waistcoat, and dress shirt with practiced precision.

Molly had to hold back a moan at the sight of him standing there in only his trousers. His chest was toned, and lightly dusted with hair. His stomach was equally muscled and slim, and Molly decided the next time Sherlock taunted Mycroft for his weight, she was going to slap him. Hard.

Mycroft definitely did not have anything to be concerned about regarding his physique, and that was only confirmed further when he removed his trousers and pants. Molly was unable to help the moan that escaped her at the sight of his generously proportioned cock.

He smirked when he saw where she was looking, and slowly stroked himself. The sight of him pleasuring himself was far too much for her to handle, so she squirmed where she lay, and begged him helplessly.

“Oh please, _please_ Mycroft.”

“Please what?” He taunted breathlessly.

“Please _fuck me.”_

Mycroft growled, and began yanking her clothing from her body. When she was bare to him, he pulled a condom out from the bedside table beside him and rolled in on. Once he was ready, he climbed onto the bed and hovered above her. His pupils were blown so wide she could barely see his golden irises, and his breath was coming out in short pants.

She reached up to pull his face down to kiss her, moaning into his mouth the second their lips met. Their kiss was frenzied, and she barely noticed when he used his knee to part her legs. She gasped when she felt the tip of his large cock nudge her entrance. Mycroft pulled back and asked, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

He nodded, and stared into her eyes as he slowly pushed into her. Molly whimpered at the feel of him filling her. It was bordering on being too much and just enough. That delicious burn of both pleasure and pain.

Mycroft went slowly, giving her time to adjust before he began thrusting with more force. He was still going painfully slow, but that all changed when Molly begged for him to go faster.

He moved to support his weight on extended forearms, using the extra leverage to fuck her harder. All she could do at that point was hold on for dear life as he pounded her into the mattress.

After a short while he changed positions, and lowered himself onto his bent forearms. The position allowed him to grind his pelvis into hers, creating just the perfect amount of friction as she was pushed closer and closer to the edge.

The feel of his lean body completely covering hers, mixed with the sensation of being filled was far too much to bare, and it wasn’t long before she was right on the edge, about to fall into a chasm of ecstasy.

Mycroft seemed to sense this, because he put his lips next to her ear and whispered, “You are mine Molly. Completely mine. I love you. Now come for me.”

His words were the final nail in the coffin, and she screamed his name as she came harder than she had ever done before. His presence was completely overwhelming her, and she knew from that moment on she was ruined. She would never again be able to enjoy sex with another man, not when Mycroft could shatter her into thousands of tiny pieces like this.

She was still shuddering when he came inside of her a few seconds later. She felt his whole body tense, and a deep groan escaped him as he thrust into her one final time. His face twisted in satisfaction for a few moments, before he pulled out and collapsed on the bed beside her.

Molly’s body was weak, and trembling as she was wrapped in his arms. She knew she was incapable of forming complete sentences at the moments, so she just allowed Mycroft to drag the covers over them.

Mycroft placed a gentle kiss on her temple, and asked “Stay the weekend, please?”

“Yes,” she said with a tiny nod. She was very much looking forward to a repeat experience later.

He just hummed in pleasure and pulled her body tighter against his. Both of them drifted off into a deep sleep within minutes.

 

* * *

 

It was 3am when Mycroft’s phone buzzed on his nightstand. He was habitually a light sleeper after many years of having to work ungodly hours during the night. He reached blindly for the phone with one hand, while the other continued to hold Molly tightly against his chest.

**_Baker Street. Now. I need your help. -SH_ **

Sherlock’s text woke him completely. His younger brother never asked for help unless he was desperate, so Mycroft carefully unwrapped himself from Molly, and climbed out of bed before gliding towards his dressing room. He quickly pulled on a navy blue three piece suit, attached his pocket watch, and picked up a black umbrella. As a final precaution, he decided to pull a handgun out of a hidden department in the wall, along with a shoulder holster. The holster allowed his suit jacket to hide the presence of the gun on his person.

With his Iceman armour in place, he exited his dressing room, only to find Molly sitting on the edge of the bed. She was still obviously groggy with sleep, but alert enough to notice something was wrong.

He approached her and planted a kiss on her forehead as he shrugged on a black wool coat. “I am sorry my dear, but I must leave. Sherlock has requested my presence.”

“At 3am?” She asked with a frown.

“Yes,” he said. “I will be back as soon as I can. You should understand this will happen often when we are together. My work demands a lot of my time. I may end up leaving late at night to deal with an international crisis occasionally.”

She gave him a tired, but understanding smile, and moved to crawl back into bed. “I understand Mycroft, I will see you when you get back. Love you.”

“And I, you, my dear.”

Mycroft nodded and turned to leave, cloaking himself in his Iceman guise as he sent a text to his driver and Anthea. He regretted having to leave Molly on their first night together, but he would always drop everything in order to help his younger brother. He was well aware Sherlock was his weakness, but a weakness he was willing to live with.

Within minutes he was sitting in the backseat of his car, Arthur driving him to Baker Street, and not long after he was climbing the stairs to his brother’s flat.

He knocked lightly on the closed door with his umbrella, but when no one answered, he turned the handle and stepped cautiously inside. The flat was dark and empty, except for the fire crackling in the hearth, so he removed the gun from its holster and held it in front of him.

Mycroft knew he should wait for backup to arrive before searching any further, but if his brother was truly in trouble, seconds were vital to his chances of survival.

He moved carefully through the flat, noting the organized chaos that was typical for Baker Street. He didn’t see anything out of place, so he continued on, past the kitchen, and down the hall towards his brother’s bedroom.

Mycroft didn’t bother knocking this time, not wanting to risk giving an attacker the upper hand if there was one in Sherlock’s room. Instead, he swiftly turned the handle, gun out in front of him. He checked all corners of the dark room for any possible opposition, but quickly realized there was none. There was only one person curled up under the duvet of the bed, and that was Sherlock himself.

Mycroft could see his brother’s curly hair splayed across the pillow, so he placed his gun back in the holster, and reached for the light.

“Myc?” Sherlock whispered from somewhere under his blankets and pillows.

_Ah, one of those nights then._

Ever since Sherlock's return from the dead, he occasionally experienced traumatizing nightmares, and would call Mycroft for help. They normally occured after a particularly difficult case, or an emotionally taxing event, and Mycroft knew Sherlock had been working on a child's murder investigation for the past week. The fact that he had been forced to work alone without John probably didn't help matters any. The nightmares tended to revert Sherlock to a younger, more vulnerable version of himself, so he would look to his watchful older brother for support and protection.

Mycroft didn't mind this one bit.

He practically raised Sherlock himself, which meant he spent many nights comforting his young brother when they were children. He was the only person who could match Sherlock at an intellectual level, the only one who could help him quiet his mind when his thoughts and observations threatened to overwhelm him.

Mycroft’s mind palace contained many memories of him teaching Sherlock the art of deduction, teaching him how to build a mind palace, and how to control his ever racing thoughts. He was sure that if he hadn’t been around to help Sherlock regulate his mind, his younger brother probably would have ended up in a cell beside their sister.

Mycroft was comfortable playing the role as Sherlock’s guardian, so he didn't hesitate to act. He removed his wool coat, suit jacket, holster, pocket watch, and waistcoat to make himself more comfortable, before sending Anthea a text informing her the situation was being handled.

He turned out the lights, then picked up a chair from the corner of the room, and placed it beside his brothers bed.

Once seated, Mycroft reached out to where the top of Sherlock's head was visible, and began running his fingers gently through his brothers curls.

“I'm here Sherlock, you can sleep now. I will watch over you.”

He could feel the tension leave his brothers body as he spoke quietly to him. The younger Holmes pulled the duvet off of his face, meeting Mycroft’s eyes for a moment.

Sherlock looked so vulnerable and childlike in that moment, and Mycroft couldn't help the protective surge that ran through him. It was rare that these events happened, but when they did, they affected Sherlock for days afterwards.

It was likely Sherlock would be slightly clingy for the next few days, so he would have to make sure to stop by often. But once the episode passed, Mycroft knew they would revert back to their normal, adversarial relationship just like they always did.

There was an unspoken agreement between them. During times of need, where one of them was physically, or emotionally compromised, the other would dismiss all prior conflict between them and take care of the vulnerable party. Once said ‘vulnerable party’ recovered, all prior conflict resumed.

It was how they always behaved towards one another, and it worked for them.

He continued running his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, watching as the detectives eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion taking over. It was likely Sherlock hadn't slept in several days, wanting to avoid the nightmares he knew were coming.

Mycroft stayed awake the majority of the night, whispering soothing phrases to Sherlock when he began to whimper fearfully in his sleep.

He only drifted to sleep in the chair when he could no longer force his eyes to stay open.

Mycroft was the first to wake the next morning, suppressing a groan of pain as he worked out the kinks in his body from sleeping in the uncomfortable chair. He glanced down at Sherlock’s still sleeping form, before picking up his belongings, and wandering into the living room.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and sent a text to Anthea requesting breakfast for Sherlock, knowing his brother had probably not eaten in several days.

Just as that text sent, a message from Molly appeared,

**_Is everything okay? -MH xx_ **

He smiled a little as he began typing a reply. He was quickly realizing he enjoyed having someone who cared about his well being. It was new to him, and not something he had experienced often in his life.

**_Everything is fine Love, but I am afraid I must stay with Sherlock for a little while longer. I will be home before lunch, so please make yourself at home while you wait. My housekeeper, Mrs. Fletcher has been instructed to cook you breakfast and provide you with everything else you may need.  -Mycroft_ **

After sending the text, he slipped his phone back into his pocket, and moved into the kitchen to make tea.

Anthea arrived with breakfast for both Holmes brothers as he finished preparing tea. He dismissed her after a short conversation, and took the food into the living room since Sherlock’s unsanitary kitchen table was covered with experiments.

Not long after, Sherlock stumbled out of the bedroom, wrapped in a silk red dressing gown. He threw himself down in his chair, and stared at Mycroft who was seated across from him. Sherlocks expression was still vulnerable, but he looked more in control of himself than the night before.

Mycroft motioned for Sherlock to begin eating the food that was placed on the small table in front of him. Sherlock just shook his head and mumbled, “Not hungry.”

“Eat Sherlock. This is not up for debate.”

The detective huffed out a breath, before reluctantly digging into the English breakfast Anthea had procured for them.

Mycroft began eating his own meal after Sherlock took his first bite. He ate much more slowly than his brother, taking the time to enjoy his food instead of inhaling it as quickly as possible.

Once they had both finished, Sherlock gestured towards his neck and said, “You were with Molly last night. My apologies for interrupting.”

Mycroft frowned deeply, and stood from his seat to look in the mirror above the fireplace. There on his neck, just barely peeking above his shirt collar was a love bite. He didn’t remember receiving it, but he had been rather distracted by his intense primal desire to claim Molly as quickly as possible. The entire manor could have been burning down around them and he wouldn’t have noticed.

He cleared his throat, and adjusted his collar to hide the bite before sitting back down. “Yes I was with Molly,” he said. “But you know I will always answer your call for help Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked down at the floor as he asked quietly, “Will… will you stay again tonight?”

Mycroft observed his brother curiously before he suggested,

“Perhaps you should come stay at the manor for a few days. Change of scenery and all that.”

“I don’t know if that would be wise.”

“Your room is still available Sherlock, and Molly will be there. The two of you could run an experiment while I work in my study.”

Without waiting for a response, Mycroft stood. “Go shower and get dressed. Pack a bag for a few days, and I will have a car pick us up when you are ready.”

Sherlock just nodded numbly, and shuffled towards his bedroom, leaving Mycroft alone in the living room. He pulled on his waist coat, holster, and suit jacket, and took out his phone to text Arthur, then Molly.

**_Change of plans. Sherlock is going to be joining us at the manor for the remainder of the weekend. I will explain more when I return. -Mycroft_ **

A half an hour later, Sherlock emerged from his bedroom, clean, and dressed in one of his regular suits. His outward appearance was normal, but Mycroft could sense the underlying tension in his brother. Sherlock’s mind was running too rapidly for him to handle, that much was obvious. A weekend away from London would do him some good Mycroft decided.

The two men left the flat and walked out to the waiting car. Sherlock was practically trembling with anxiety as they sat down, so Mycroft placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Breathe Sherlock, I will look after you. When we reach the manor, we will meditate together like we used to do when we were children. I will help you quiet your mind.”

“Promise?” Sherlock asked in a childlike manner.

Mycroft squeezed his shoulder a little harder, grounding Sherlock the best as he could. “Yes I promise.”

The ride to the manor felt like hours, but in reality was a rather short amount of time. Small spaces tended to increase Sherlock’s anxiety whenever his mind was racing out of control, so the two Holmes men were eager to get out of the car as quickly as possible.

Molly was waiting for them on the stone staircase as the car rounded the marble fountain in front of the manor. She approached them with a smile as the car came to a stop. A smile which Mycroft returned as he stepped outside.

Sherlock was right behind him, and took off up the stairs, and into the manor without even so much as a wave to Molly.  

She watched him go, and turned back to Mycroft with a frown on her face. “What is wrong with him?”

He sighed deeply, and placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her inside.

“You must understand Molly, both Sherlock and I are extremely gifted intellectually, but it is both a blessing and a curse at times. Our minds allow us to make leeps, and detect connections where no other human could. It is why we are excellent at our jobs. However, our minds do occasionally… run away from us. Sometimes it is too much, too overwhelming for us to cope. Sherlock is currently being overwhelmed by his mind, so I have to help him gain control again. That is why he is here.”

Molly shot him a worried look and asked, “How do you do that? Does your mind ever run away from you like his does?”

“Through meditation mostly,” Mycroft explained. “And no, my dear. I have a strong hold over my mind. I haven’t lost control in over a decade.”

“Will Sherlock be okay?”

“Yes he will be. Now, I must go find him. We will probably be busy for the next couple hours, so please feel free to use the library if you wish.”

Molly smiled in understanding, and stood up on her toes so she was tall enough to kiss him. When they separated, she brushed her fingers across his jaw and said,

“Go be a good big brother Mr. Holmes. I will be waiting for you when you get back.”

“Thank you Molly,” he said. He turned to leave, but looked back to her after he remembered his earlier promise.

“Molly, I told Sherlock the two of you could work on an experiment together while I work in my study later this afternoon. Would you be willing…?”

“Of course,” she replied with a smile.

With that, he nodded and turned to enter the manor. He knew Sherlock was probably unpacking in his room, so he took a little while to shower, and change into more casual clothing for the day.

He dressed in fitted khaki trousers, with a tucked in cobalt blue dress shirt. He decided against a tie, knowing meditation would be easier without the restrictive feeling the tie produced.

Once he was ready, he left his bedroom, and wandered outside where he knew Sherlock would be. He walked past the gardens, and into the forest behind the manor. He continued on, until he heard the soothing sounds of slow moving river ahead. This forest was an escape for the Holmes brothers. They often came here when they were young, and wanted to go swimming, to play pirates, or calm their minds.

Mycroft admired his surroundings as he approached the river. It was a surprisingly warm, and sunny day. The sunlight was shining through the bright green leaves of the trees, and the dark blue water of the river shimmered as it moved through the trees. The air was fresh in his lungs, and despite his brother’s anxiety, he felt rather relaxed.

He walked upstream for several minutes, until he reached a wide, flat rock settled on the bank of the river. Sherlock was already there, pacing back and forth, restlessness radiating out of his every pore.

Mycroft picked up a small pine tree branch that had fallen, and used it to brush all debris off of the rock so they could sit without ruining their clothing.

He sat down, crossing his legs as he did, and looked to his brother who was still pacing back and forth.

“Sherlock,” he said.

The detective turned to face him, his eyes wild, and troubled. Mycroft sighed and spoke firmly. “Come sit.”

Sherlock did so without arguing. He sat down several feet away facing Mycroft, waiting for further instruction just like he did when they were children. He trusted Mycroft, and Mycroft was determined not to abuse that trust.

“Close your eyes.”

He did, and Mycroft began speaking in a soothing voice,

“You are safe here Sherlock. Nothing can hurt you as long as you are here with me. I will protect you from all harm. You are safe here with me, so breathe deeply, and focus on quieting your mind. Concentrate only on what is going on around you at this very moment. The sound of my voice, and the water flowing in the river just beside us. You are safe...”

Mycroft continued on like this for a short while, before transitioning into breathing exercises with Sherlock. He instructed his brother to breathe in deeply, and hold for several seconds, then slowly release the air from his lungs.

He progressed through his instruction until he saw Sherlock’s body relax. Only when he was absolutely sure his brother was deep into his meditation did he allow himself to stop speaking, and meditate himself.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock was the first to surface from his meditative state about an hour later. He emerged from his mind feeling more relaxed than he had in many years. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t being overwhelmed by stimuli from the environment. His mind was calm, and clear.

He opened his eyes and noticed Mycroft was still sitting across from him, deep in his own meditative state. His brother looked younger like this, the stress of the day gone from his features.

Sherlock felt a familiar surge of admiration for his older brother. The man had always done everything he possibly could to protect him. Mycroft had been the one to raise him. When their parents couldn’t handle the endless energy and intelligence he exuded, Mycroft took him in and cared for him.

Without Mycroft, Sherlock probably would have ended up dead before he turned 20.

That thought suddenly made him feel quite guilty for the way he treated his brother over the years. Mycroft didn’t deserve his endless taunts, or jabs, not when he was only trying to protect him.

He decided in that moment he would try to repair his relationship with Mycroft. John was about to get married, and Sherlock was quickly realizing their old partnership would end once that happened. John would be far too busy with his new wife to go solve cases with him, so he knew he should hold onto whatever relationship he had with his brother.

It wasn’t long before Mycroft opened his eyes. The two men stared at one another for a moment, a silent agreement passing between them.

Sherlock stood, and held out a hand to his older brother. Mycroft took his hand, and allowed Sherlock to help him up before they began walking in the direction of the manor.

Just before they reached their ancestral home, Sherlock whispered two words he rarely ever said.

“Thank you.”

Mycroft clasped a hand on his shoulder and smiled ever so slightly. “You’re welcome Sherlock. Don’t hesitate to ask the next time you need help.”

“I won’t,” he promised, and he spoke the truth.

Mycroft nodded. “Good,” he said. “Now Molly is waiting for you inside to do an experiment. I have to work for a little while, so I will find you both when I am finished.”

Sherlock just nodded in return and walked in the direction of the library, leaving Mycroft to go to his study.

The second he stepped inside, he was met with a bone crushing hug. Molly smiled up at him and asked, “Are you okay?”

He couldn’t help but smile just a little. “I’m better now Molly. Mycroft helped me.”

Molly released him, and took a step back. She stared at him curiously for a moment before saying, “You look better Sherlock. You look more relaxed than I have seen you in a very long time.”

“Yes, I feel better.”

“Good,” she replied. She then took his hand and pulled him in the direction of the staircase. “Come on, I have a good idea for an experiment. Mycroft showed me your makeshift lab earlier, and I think we will have everything we need.”

Sherlock chuckled, and allowed himself to be dragged along. Perhaps he didn’t have to be lonely when John got married. Maybe Mycroft and Molly’s friendship would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Feedback is appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please feel free to comment, but make sure it is respectful.


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